


touch my heart, kiss my soul

by carissima



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, Girl Direction, Touch Dependence, always-a-girl!liam, always-a-girl!niall, magic is kind of a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4015303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carissima/pseuds/carissima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You think too loudly,” Harry complains from the bed, his voice muffled where his face is still buried in a pillow.</p><p>Liam laughs and drops down next to Harry, ruffling his messy, long hair. “Someone’s got a hangover, haven’t they?”</p><p>Harry rolls over, his hand moving surprisingly fast to catch Liam’s wrist before she pulls away. He looks a bit rough and tired and Liam softens helplessly, the way she does with all her boys. “Poor baby,” she murmurs, with only a hint of teasing in her voice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	touch my heart, kiss my soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bek/gifts).



> written for the girl!direction exchange for my darling bek, who prompted TOUCH DEPENDENCY, always-a-girl!liam and mentioned that she loves everyone loving liam and that she loves a cliche. i mean, how could i resist? (plus i've been whining about writing a lirry touch-dependency fic for oh about a bajillion years now so i guess the time had to come to write it eventually, right?)
> 
> a huuuuge thank you to tori for reading this over and to bee for the amaaaazing beta THANK YOU!! <333

Liam grabs her pillow and shoves it over her face, blocking out the sunlight streaming into her hotel room. She dozes for a few minutes before she realises that she’s not alone - she can hear someone snoring in the bed next to her - and she’s also half-dressed. Liam flings the pillow away from herself and it tumbles over the edge of the bed as she grabs the duvet and lifts it up high enough that she can glance down to reveal that while she is in fact, trouser-less, she’s still wearing knickers and what looks like Louis’ shirt. There are familiar-looking legs sprawled out next to her, tanned and toned and lightly dusted with hair. The same legs that she’s always been jealous of, to Harry’s amusement.

She’s just grateful that Harry’s wearing boxers this time.

Liam yawns widely as Harry lets out a ridiculously loud snore and Liam leans across the bed to shove futilely at his shoulder. He mumbles something in his sleep but he rolls over onto his belly, burying his face into a pillow and blissful silence fills the room.

Except now she’s awake, kind of hungry and in desperate need of a shower. Liam throws the covers back and kicks her long, shapely legs over the side of the bed, pulling herself up into a sitting position. She rubs her hands over her face, yawning again while she reaches up to pat her hair, tied up into a messy bun and she just hopes that she wasn’t so drunk last night that she forgot to scrub her make up off, leaving her with raccoon eyes. It’s not her best look.

Liam stands up and stretches her long limbs before she pads over to the bathroom, leaning over the sink to blearily check her face. Her face is clean of make-up, thankfully, but she’s got terrible bags under her eyes that look a little puffy and she’s a bit paler than usual. Liam pokes miserably at her face a little before she strips off Louis’ shirt and steps out of her knickers and shoves them into the laundry bag she always hangs up in every hotel bathroom she stays in. Then she steps into the shower, letting the hot spray wake her up and hopefully reduce her puffy eyes.

Going out was, of course, Louis’ brilliant idea. They’d all flown into town yesterday morning for the start of the next leg of the tour, except for Harry who’d flown in a few days earlier, and Louis had suggested heading out as some kind of band-bonding. Liam’s not sure how much more bonding they need at this point when they’ve been together for five years, and living out of each other’s pockets for so long that waking up in bed half-naked with Harry isn’t even unusual anymore. But they’d all agreed as they usually do whenever Louis gets some grand idea into his head and they’d hit the club just before midnight after a few drinks in Louis’ room. Which is right around the time that Liam’s memories get a little hazy.

She’s reaching for the shampoo bottle when a glint of gold draws her eye. There’s a big, heavy gold ring on her left ring finger and when Liam pulls her hand closer for inspection, she realises it’s Harry’s. He’d been showing it off yesterday, pleased with the latest addition to his eclectic collection and Niall had been teasing him over it. The ring is loose and weighty and although it’s not as ugly as some of the rings Harry’s bought over the years, it’s definitely not something she should be wearing on her wedding ring finger. She twists the ring and it slides easily off her wet, slender finger. Liam glances over at the counter through the shower screen, the ring curled into the palm of her hand and she hesitates, gnawing on her bottom lip. Then she shrugs and slips the ring onto her middle finger for safekeeping and just hopes that no one took any pictures of her wearing Harry’s ring because that;s a PR nightmare that the band doesn’t need. Especially since Harry took a picture of the ring two days ago and instagrammed it in black and white.

She steps out of the shower, feeling much better with her hair freshly washed and her skin scrubbed clean and regaining some colour, and grabs her toothbrush, checking her appearance while it hangs precariously out of her mouth. To Liam’s relief, her skin looks a million times better and her eyes almost seem normal again and she drops her toothbrush back into its tumbler to rinse out her mouth. Feeling much perkier, Liam steps back into the room and changes into navy joggers and Zayn’s Iron Man t-shirt while she idly considers going for an early run to shake away the rest of the cobwebs from their break.

It hadn’t been easy, being home. Usually she loves breaks but she’d spent the entire month they’d had off clearing the last of Sophia’s things from the house, packing it all off and sending it back with a polite note. The two of them might not have been able to make things work but they hadn’t ended things on a bad note, exactly, and besides, it’s been four months since they’d made the decision together. But since the house had seemed big and empty with just her on her own rattling around the place, she’d ended up spending more time back with her parents, getting drunk with Niall at her local, staying at Louis’ while they wrote for the next album and sleeping on Zayn and Perrie’s sofa because they still haven’t gotten around to putting a bed in their guest room. And it had been easy - too easy perhaps - to just laze around and hide away while she licked the last of her wounds, finally away from the public eye.

“You think too loudly,” Harry complains from the bed, his voice muffled where his face is still buried in a pillow.

Liam laughs and drops down next to Harry, ruffling his messy, long hair. “Someone’s got a hangover, haven’t they?”

Harry rolls over, his hand moving surprisingly fast to catch Liam’s wrist before she pulls away. He looks a bit rough and tired and Liam softens helplessly, the way she does with all her boys. “Poor baby,” she murmurs, with only a hint of teasing in her voice.

“Why are you out of bed,” Harry says grumpily, not even framing it as a question.

“Because some of us don’t want to sleep the day away.” Liam draws her hand back, her gaze flickering to the ring on her finger before she tucks her hand into her pocket. “And some of us don’t get hangovers.”

Harry raises a sceptical eyebrow. “Oh really? Because I could have sworn you were hungover after my 21st. You were moaning that you were never gonna drink again while you were throwing up in my guest bathroom.”

Laughter bubbles up inside of her as she flushes. “That was totally your fault, Haz,” she points out, waving an accusatory finger at Harry which he grasps and uses to tug her in closer. “You know bubbles go straight to my head and you kept topping up my glass.”

“Hey, you were asking me to top up your glass,” Harry counters with a grin. “Begging me, in fact.”

“Maybe,” Liam allows, laughing when Harry tries to pull her back onto the bed. She stands up and skips away from his outstretched, grabby hands and picks up Niall’s discarded snapback from the floor, pulling it down over her damp hair. “I’m gonna go find the others and make sure they’re still alive. And see if they can remember what the hell happened last night because everything’s a blur. Hey, do you-”

“Not a thing,” Harry says, still pouting as he crosses his hands behind his head and yawns. “Total blank.”

“Oh.” Liam’s disappointed but not surprised since Harry’s even more of a lightweight with alcohol than she is. “Yeah.”

“Liiiiiammm come back to bed,” Harry whines, pouting up at her with sad eyes.

“Nope,” Liam says cheerfully. “You, Mr Styles, are in desperate need of a shower. There’s no way I’m getting back into bed with you.”

Harry’s pout deepens. “Heyyyy, that’s not very nice, Liam.”

“Take a shower,” Liam advises with a grin. “Then I’ll let you join us for breakfast.”

Harry’s face lights up. “Alright. Just don’t go down without me, yeah?”

“You’re such a needy brat.” Liam throws a pillow at him, which he easily catches and he childishly sticks his tongue out at her. “I don’t know why anyone screams for you during the shows.”

“Probably because our fans have better taste than you do, Liam,” Harry says around a wide yawn.

“Only because they don’t know how badly you stink,” Liam counters as she tugs on a pair of sneakers. “I’m going to start educating our fans on the Real Harry Styles. Like, how you can’t have breakfast alone or that you throw a tantrum when you don’t win Pictionary or how whiny and awful you are when you get a tiny itty bitty cold.”

“They’d just offer to come look after me.”

Liam rolls her eyes at the truth of it. “Shower,” she orders firmly. “Then breakfast.”

Harry just grins so Liam grabs her door key before she makes a hasty escape out into the hallway. Using five years of band-bonding intel and common sense, she heads for Zayn’s room first and is rewarded when Niall flings the door open.

“Liam!” Niall greets her with a one-armed hug that Liam returns easily. She looks fresh and awake and disgustingly cheerful. “Help me get these lazy arses out of bed, would ya?”

Liam takes her snapback off and places it over Niall’s short blonde hair. “Found this in my room,” she says before she steps into the room to find Zayn and Louis sprawled over the double-bed, both of them looking miserable and hungover. Zayn’s got one of Harry’s bandanas wrapped around his wrist and Louis’ wearing Zayn’s shirt, unbuttoned and wrinkled.

“These two are refusing to get out of bed because they reckon they’re dyin’,” Niall says cheerfully. “Never could handle their drinks, despite what they claim.”

Liam heads for Louis, who at least looks a little more awake than Zayn, who’s mumbling into his pillow something about sleep and fuckin’ bandmates. “I’ll get them up,” Liam says, glancing over her shoulder as Niall gives her an enthusiastic thumbs up as she heads for the door. “You go get showered and dressed. We’ve got time, since Harry made me promise not to go for breakfast until he comes over.”

Liam’s left standing over Louis, who’s looking up at her with an expression torn between amusement and wariness, while Zayn’s still doing his best to pretend that he can sleep the rest of the morning away.

“You know I can pick you up and dump you in the shower,” Liam says conversationally. She flexes her biceps, a move which used to make Louis and the rest of the boys laugh until Liam proved she could in fact beat any of them at arm wrestling. Harry’s the only one who indulges her now and will still wrestle her to the ground when he’s feeling particularly playful. Louis flat out refuses to, swearing with a haughty sniff that he isn’t a child anymore and playfighting is for children, while Zayn’s never been a fan of playfighting anyway.

“You’re the absolute worst, Liam,” Louis complains but he kicks off the duvet, ignoring Zayn’s mumbled protests before dragging the covers back to wrap around himself. Liam holds out a hand to help Louis up which he takes with more grumbling but he lets Liam give him a quick cuddle before he heads for the shower, still complaining loudly about terrible, unsympathetic bandmates.

Which leaves Liam with Zayn. She sinks down onto the bed and pulls the covers down to stroke her hand over Zayn’s back, her fingers brushing lightly over his fantail tattoo. She lets him sleep for a bit longer until she hears the shower shut off. “C’mon Zaynie,” she croons gently. “You’ll feel better after a shower and some brekkie.”

There’s a few moments of silence before Zayn groans and flips over to stare mournfully up at her. “Why aren’t you hungover then?”

“Just lucky I guess,” Liam says brightly before she bounces up off the bed and Louis comes out of the bathroom, steam following him as he rubs a towel over his hair, another wrapped around his lean waist. “Feel better then Lou?”

“Loads thanks, _mum_ ,” Louis says dryly.

It’s an old joke but she doesn’t mind it anymore, not like she used to, back when the band was first formed and Louis seemed to say it with more bite, a sharper, disapproving edge to his tone.

“Zayn’s turn then.”

But when she turns around, Zayn’s already disappeared into the bathroom. The shower starts running again while Zayn starts to belt out a tune through the closed door that Liam can’t help but hum along to. She busies herself tidying up the room, throwing a top and pair of jeans at Louis while he rummages around in Zayn’s bag for a pair of clean underwear. By the time Louis’ dressed and messing around with his hair in the mirror, Niall’s reappeared and Zayn’s out of the shower, tugging on a pair of joggers and one of Harry’s old band shirts.

It’s already chaotic before Harry saunters into the room, looking as casual as he can in the tightest black jeans imaginable and a floral shirt that Liam happens to know cost more than Niall’s entire wardrobe. “Morning! Everyone alright?”

“We didn’t leave without you, ya big baby,” Niall says, laughing when Harry gives her a playful nudge that ends up with Niall falling into Zayn’s lap, who wraps his arms around Niall and rests his cheek against her shoulder.

“I wasn’t worried,” Harry says easily. He drops down onto the bed next to Liam and bumps his knee against hers. “Liam promised you’d wait, anyway.”

Liam deliberately leans into Harry and sniffs delicately, breathing Harry’s familiar scent of Gucci which he only wears to annoy Zayn. “If you showered,” she reminds him, her hand dropping to Harry’s thigh to balance herself as Louis brushes past them to grab his wallet from the nightstand.

“Well since we’re all here, let’s go get breakfast before I die from alcohol poisoning.” Louis starts herding them all towards the door, handing the key-card to Zayn as they tumble into the hallway and head for the elevators. “What the fuck happened last night anyway?”

While the others try to remember what happened after they’d decided to play strip poker when they got back from the club, Harry wraps his fingers around Liam’s wrist when they’re in the elevator. “Hey,” Harry murmurs, lifting Liam’s hand so that Harry’s ring glints under the spotlights.

Liam wrinkles her nose and bites her bottom lip as Harry runs his thumb over the ring. “Uh, I woke up with it on my finger?” she offers. At Harry’s interested look, Liam sighs. “Sorry, I meant to give it back but I forgot.”

“No, it’s alright,” Harry murmurs. He turns the ring idly on Liam’s finger where it’s still a bit too big to fit properly. “It looks better on you anyway.”

Liam blinks, glancing up at Harry in confusion. “Harry, it’s your new ring,” she says with a bemused laugh. “I’m not keeping it.”

“Technically it’s an old ring, since I got it from a vintage shop.” Harry tucks her hand into his and closes his fingers around hers, trapping the ring between them. “Keep it, Liam. I’ve got enough rings anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Liam really doesn’t want to give up the ring because it feels nice and heavy on her finger, and while she’s not really one for rings usually, she’d been taken by the old leaf pattern that circled the band since the minute she’d seen it on Harry’s little finger the day before.

“I’m sure,” he says, squeezing her hand gently.

Liam’s lips curve up into a smile and she drops her head onto Harry’s shoulder and squeezes back. “Thanks, Hazza,” she murmurs quietly as Niall insists that Louis was the first to lose at strip poker, while Louis loudly and flatly denies the accusation.

“Oh who cares, we see each other naked every bloody day,” Zayn mutters as he stalks out of the elevator and heads for the restaurant, the rest of them trailing behind him, still arguing.

“It was Harry’s idea anyway,” Niall says while they all slide into their seats and she picks up her menu, her eyes scouring the list quickly.

“Probably,” Harry says with an easy shrug.

The bickering continues all the way through breakfast and even through to vocal rehearsals where Louis accuses Niall of cheating during the game to force Zayn to strip and Niall swears her innocence, despite the pink flush on her pale cheeks that gives her away.

It’s late in the afternoon when they all crash in Niall’s room. Niall and Harry are laughing at something on Harry’s phone, Zayn’s asleep on the bed next to Louis, who’s catching up on his texts and Liam’s curled up in the chair with her eyes closed because she thinks that maybe her hangover is finally catching up with her. Her skin feels a bit clammy and her head hurts with a dull, mild ache that threatens worse to come.

“Hey Niall, can I grab a bottle of water?” she asks quietly, her hand already reaching over towards the minibar.

“Yeah, course,” Niall says, glancing over her shoulder with a frown. “You feeling alright, Liam?”

“Delayed hangover,” Liam says with a wry smile and Louis crows with glee.

“I knew it!” he says cheerfully. “I knew you weren’t bloody immune!”

Liam grabs the first bottle of water she finds and screws the cap off, downing the entire bottle in one long, desperate gulp.

“Hey, seriously though you don’t look so good, Liam,” Niall says, reaching over to shove Louis and glare at him.

“I am feeling a bit cold,” Liam admits as a shiver races through her slender body. She brings her knees up towards her chest and hugs them to her body. “Maybe I just need to sleep it off.”

“Good thing we haven’t got a show tonight,” Louis says, leaning forward and finally looking a bit concerned. “Reckon you’ll be alright for the next show, love?”

“Yeah of course I will,” Liam says, lifting her head and setting her jaw with determination. “Perhaps I should just go lie down or something.”

“You can lie down here,” Harry says, frowning. He reaches down to pick up something from the floor before he stands up and moves over towards Liam. “Here,” he says softly.

Liam lets him help her into the worn green Calvin Klein jumper that smells like Harry and warms her almost immediately. She stops shivering and leans on Harry gratefully as he guides her over to the bed and lifts the covers for her to slip under.

“Do you want a cuddle then?” Harry asks as he hovers next to the bed.

Already feeling pathetic and miserable, Liam nods, lifting the covers up for Harry to slide in next to her and she finds herself enveloped in warm, strong arms. She sighs and snuggles closer, feeling better already, especially when Harry runs his fingers through her long hair and gently loosens it from its ponytail.

“What’s up with you two today?” Niall asks curiously. “You’re like an old married couple or something.”

“She’s not feeling well, Niall,” Harry says, keeping his voice pitched low. “Liam just needs a bit of a cuddle and being looked after, yeah?”

Liam makes an agreeing noise although it’s muffled against Harry’s broad chest.

“I could have cuddled her,” Louis says grouchily. “I’m great at cuddling.”

“Hey you snooze, you lose, Lou,” Harry says over Liam’s head and she curls her fingers into Harry’s shirt where she can breathe in his scent.

“Look, if you’re fucking, band rules mean you have to tell us,” Niall says plaintively.

Liam’s eyes fly open and she stares up at Harry’s shocked face before she buries her face into his shirt again and snorts with laughter. “Niall, c’mon,” she manages between giggles, feeling much better already. “Me and Harry?”

“Heyyy,” Harry protests weakly. “I’ll have you know that I’m a catch, Liam.”

“Sure you are, Harry,” Liam assures him with dancing, amused eyes as she pats his cheek softly. “Just not for me. I know you too well.”

“Aha, she’s got you there,” Niall says with a snort. “She’s hardly gonna fancy you when she’s seen ya naked with your head down the toilet, throwing up and mutterin’ about chocolate munchkins.”

“One time,” Harry grumbles. “One bloody time.”

Liam lets her finger trace an idle circle against Harry’s thigh and hides her grin. “I wish I’d taken a picture.”

“The memory’s enough for me,” Niall says with an exaggerated shiver. Harry pouts at her and Niall just throws a pillow at him that narrowly misses and tumbles over his shoulder. Her gaze drops to Harry’s thigh where Liam’s hand is now covered by Harry’s and she sighs heavily. “Look, all I’m saying is that if you’re not careful, you’re gonna start another bloody rumour.”

Liam reaches out blindly behind her for Niall’s hand and squeezes it reassuringly. “Yeah, alright,” she says softly, her voice sounding a little slurred even to her own ears. “But we’re definitely not like, married or fucking or even kissing, alright? Can you imagine, me and Harry? We’d kill each other within a week.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Harry grumbles.

Liam laughs and let’s go of Niall’s hand to pat Harry’s cheek again. “Shhhh,” she mumbles drowsily. “Love you Harry.”

Harry mumbles something unintelligible under his breath but Liam feels him relaxing against her and she turns her head to nuzzle into his warm, soft neck.

“She’s got you wrapped around her little finger, mate,” Louis says, the grin apparent in his voice.

“Yeah, like you’re not wrapped around it too,” Harry counters dryly. “We all are.”

Liam lets go of Harry’s shirt and reaches behind her to grab Louis’ hand, squeezing it tight while he hotly denies being wrapped around anyone’s finger. She falls asleep like that, one hand still bunched in Harry’s shirt, the other firmly held by Louis.

*

Liam smothers a yawn as she slides into the empty seat between Harry and Zayn, nudging them both as she fights for more elbow room at the restaurant table. “Why do you need to take up so much space?” she grumbles.

“Sorry babe,” Zayn says, except he doesn’t move at all. And Harry leans even further into her space because he’s a little shit. Liam turns to scowl at him and shoves her hand in his face, an old tactic that never works but gives Liam the satisfaction of seeing Harry’s face scrunch up and look put out.

“You look like you’re feeling better,” Niall says, amused.

“I feel much better.” Liam had woken up alone in Niall’s bed without so much as a headache, to her huge relief. She hasn’t missed a single show in five years and she doesn’t plan to do it now. “Probably just a delayed hangover, like Lou said.”

“I bet my amazing cuddle helped though,” Harry says cheerfully.

“Definitely,” Liam says solemnly before she plucks the menu out of his hands and scours it quickly. She orders the pasta and shoots the pretty raven-haired waitress a bright smile that makes the waitress blink in surprise and fumble the menu before she blushes and moves down the table.

“And people think I’m the ladies man in the group,” Harry says quietly, leaning close enough that Liam can feel his breath on her cheek.

Amused, Liam swats him away. “You a _re_ the ladies man in the group,” she says dryly. “And you love it.”

“Maybe,” Harry says seriously enough that Liam raises her eyebrows in surprise. His expression turns thoughtful. “What? Maybe I’m tired of the constant speculation.”

Liam’s fallen for too many of Harry’s jokes, and Louis’ and Niall’s and Zayn’s for that matter, to start falling for them now though. “No girl would put up with you though,” she says, patting his thigh before she lets her hand just rest there comfortably as Harry covers it with his own. “I mean, not by the time I’d got through explaining all your many, many, _many_ faults.”

“Oh I love this game,” Louis interrupts loudly, leaning forward and glancing pointedly at their joined hands. Liam slides hers away with a roll of her eyes while Louis starts listing what he thinks are Harry’s worst faults, including his terrible taste in floral shirts, his tendency to set off smoke alarms in hotels and on the tour bus with his candles and his preference for Jack Nicholson’s Joker over Heath Ledger’s.

By the time dinner finally arrives, Harry’s in a full-on sulk, glaring at both Niall and Louis who had moved onto a detailed description of Harry’s worst tattoos about three minutes ago and they’re still busy listing them.

“Alright guys,” Zayn says finally, levelling them both with a look that finally shuts them up while Harry throws him a grateful smile.

Liam inhales the first few mouthfuls of her pasta before she realises there’s a second fork hovering over her plate. She swallows her mouthful and pushes the plate closer to Harry so he can dig out all of her olives while he explains to Niall why his anatomical heart isn’t, in fact, ugly but rather a beautiful replica of the strongest muscle a person has.

Niall isn’t actually listening but Liam doesn’t have the heart to tell Harry. Instead she carves a slice off his steak and pops it in her mouth, groaning at how obscenely good it tastes.

“Harry, your heart tattoo is bloody ugly and you’re never gonna convince the rest of us otherwise,” Louis says flatly. Liam glances up and catches Louis’ eye with a frown. Louis sighs heavily. “But your swallows mate, they’re really uh, nice. Thought they were fucking awful as well when you first got them but they kinda grow on you.”

“Thanks Lou,” Harry says with a beaming smile before he leans over and steals another forkful of pasta from Liam’s plate.

“Oi, eat your own food,” Liam says, batting his fork away with her own. “See, Zayn doesn’t steal my food. That’s why Zayn is an excellent boyfriend and you’d be a terrible one.”

“Or I’ve learnt to keep my fork away from Perrie’s plate, on pain of death,” Zayn says from behind her. “She’s territorial as hell about her food.”

“Exactly!” Liam nods in agreement.

Harry ignores her and cuts off another slice of steak, dropping it on her plate with a lazy smile before he leans forward towards Louis with a quizzical stare. “What about my butterfly though, Lou?”

“Fucking ridiculous, mate,” Louis tells him around a mouthful of burger, gesticulating with his knife. “Worst tattoo of the lot.”

Liam grins as she chews on Harry’s steak.

*

Liam wakes up the next morning feeling achy all over. With a groan, she rolls over to grab her phone to check the time and she nearly cries when her phone shows 7:27am. Scheduled sleep time on tour is rare, which is why Harry’s developed the skill of sleeping anywhere, and on anything. Liam’s always found it harder to unwind, whether they’ve just finished a show, had a whole day of interviews or stepped off a long-haul flight. She’s always needed to find a little nest in every hotel room that’s just hers and feels as homey as she can make it when she’s thousands of miles away.

Her throat feels scratchy so she forces herself to throw back the covers and stumble out of bed, feeling her way towards the connecting door because it hurts to open her eyes. Trying to be quiet, she cringes and finally opens her eyes as the door squeaks open to find Harry in bed, propped up on one elbow while rubbing his eyes, looking as weary as she feels. He’s pale underneath his semi-permanent LA tan and his eyes are bloodshot.

He lifts the covers and Liam gratefully tumbles into bed next to him, shivering as she curls herself around his warm body, grateful that he’s actually wearing pyjama bottoms for once.

“Must’ve caught a bug,” Harry says, his voice croaky and hoarse. “I feel like utter shit.”

“Me too,” Liam says huskily. She buries her face in Harry’s shoulder and lets her hand rest on Harry’s butterfly tattoo. His skin feels a little too warm but she doesn’t want to move away, not when Harry’s stroking his long fingers up and down her back comfortingly, his other hand settled on her hip over the waistband of her purple and yellow Batman shorts. “Paul’s gonna kill us if we can’t sing tomorrow.”

Harry’s hand stills for a moment before settling at the small of Liam’s back. “We’ll be fine,” Harry says unconvincingly. Liam fights the urge to giggle hysterically, heroically swallowing it back down. “We just need to sleep more.”

“I hope no one else caught it, whatever it is,” Liam says. She closes her eyes and immediately feels the pull of sleep creeping over her. She snuggles in closer, throwing her leg over Harry’s thigh and hooking her foot around his ankle.

“Comfortable?” Harry asks dryly.

“Shhh,” Liam mutters, reaching up blindly to press her fingers against Harry’s smiling mouth. “Sleeping.”

Harry’s hand tightens slightly on her hip. Liam mumbles contentedly into his neck and falls fast asleep.

*

The next time Liam wakes up, her scratchy throat is gone and she feels a million times better. Good enough in fact to reach over Harry, who’s still fast asleep and snoring unattractively, much to her amusement, and grab the hotel phone. She orders breakfast and tries not to roll her eyes at how much fruit she reels off for Harry and the green tea he’ll probably want rather than good old fashioned English breakfast tea.

Yeah, she’s definitely feeling better.

“Sleep,” Harry mumbles when she drops the receiver back into its cradle. Warm, large hands circle her waist and drag her down until she’s sprawled over Harry and twisting against him in a vain attempt to free herself.

“You’re obviously feeling better,” Liam gasps as she desperately tries to escape Harry’s grip. Usually it’s easier to wriggle away from him and Liam prides herself on never letting any of the boys beat her so they can brag about their natural strength, but she can’t seem to shrug Harry off as effortlessly as she normally does. “Christ Harry, have you been hitting the gym more than usual during break?”

“Shhh.” Harry’s arms are clamped around her like steel bands and no matter what she does, she can’t wriggle free. In graceful defeat, she falls back down against his chest, her loose brown hair fanning out over both of them.

“Harry, c’mon.” Liam pokes him in the ribs but Harry has apparently turned into a solid block of muscle while Liam wasn’t looking because he doesn’t even flinch. “I’m feeling loads better. And breakfast is on its way.”

“Which we should definitely eat in bed,” Harry says around a yawn. He carefully smoothes Liam’s hair back away from her face with one hand while the other stays clamped around her waist. “Can’t be too careful, Liam. We should definitely stay in bed all day and do nothing at all to make sure we’re alright tomorrow.”

Liam wants to argue, partly because it’s Harry and Liam’s hardwired to wind him up at every opportunity, and partly because she really does feel better and she’s never been very good at lazing around hotel rooms. She’s too easily bored and she really hates too much of her own company. “Alright then,” she says, surprising herself as much as Harry who simply blinks at her in disbelief. She grins and finally wriggles out of Harry’s arms, taking advantage of his slackened grip. “But I’m wearing your jumper.”

Liam slips back into her own room to brush her teeth and grab the sweater, which she’d stripped off last night before bed and left on the floor in a heap. When she bounces back into Harry’s bed, he looks pleased that she’s still in her pyjamas because Harry had insisted that a proper day in bed somehow meant a complete lack of personal hygiene. Harry hands her a cup of steaming hot tea, courtesy of the breakfast that’s been wheeled into his room while she was gone, and she settles down on top of the covers with her long slender legs curled underneath her.

Harry leans against the headboard with his legs stretched out, his mug of green tea on the nightstand while he carefully cuts up his fruit. They eat in companionable silence and then it’s easy enough to slide back into bed, pull the covers up over them and argue for hours over what to watch.

They bicker through most of Cake Boss and Liam teases Harry over Kendall during Keeping Up with the Kardashians. Harry then sulks for the next two hours while Liam watches old Friends re-runs before Liam lets him watch a documentary on The Rolling Stones that cheers him up. Not that Liam minds all that much, especially when Harry lets her snuggle into his side and doze on his broad shoulder while he hums along to the background music.

“You should just sleep here,” Harry mumbles sometime after dinner. They’ve just finished watching a thriller on the telly that Liam lost the thread of halfway through and started scrolling through twitter instead, answering a few random questions and trying to take a surreptitious picture of Harry that he keeps blocking easily.

Liam hums as she traces her finger over Harry’s butterfly. “I dunno, Harry. You kick in your sleep.”

“Yeah, well you drool,” Harry returns, yelping when Liam indignantly digs her fingers into his ribs. “Heyyy!”

“I don’t drool,” Liam says, mock-offended. “And anyway, even if I did, it wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of you to _point it out_ , Mr Styles.”

When Harry’s jaw slackens and he shifts awkwardly under the covers, it takes Liam a second to catch on and she gasps, slapping at his shoulder. “Stop it!”

“Stop what?” Harry asks innocently, rubbing his head and pouting down at her.

“Being weird,” Liam mutters as she feels her face heat in embarrassment. “It’s just a nickname. I’ve called you it before loads of times.”

“But never in bed,” Harry says, waggling his eyebrows and doing his best to look utterly ridiculous. “S’kinky.”

Liam’s mouth twitches in reluctant amusement and she relents by dropping back down onto the mattress, folding her arms behind her head as she looks up at the ceiling. “Well, Mr Styles,” she says with deliberate emphasis that has Harry snickering next to her, “I guess I could sleep here tonight but keep your hands to yourself.”

The room falls into darkness as Harry switches the light off and rolls over, practically pinning her to the bed as a heavy arm falls across her middle and there’s a wave of heat pressed up against her back as Harry gets comfortable. And for Harry, that means zero personal space.

“So I guess we’re going to sleep now then,” Liam muses after a beat.

“Good idea babe,” Harry murmurs. It’s not exactly an order, because they’d all learned within five minutes of meeting each other that Harry was completely incapable of telling anyone what to do. But there’s a hint of something under his tone that has Liam settling down and closing her eyes. She tucks a hand under her pillow and let’s sleep pull her under.

*

Liam taps her foot impatiently, one hand resting on the door handle while she stares at Harry, who is currently yawning widely and slowly tying the laces on his trainers.

“Come _on_ Harry,” Liam whines. She’s not impressed when Harry huffs out a laugh without looking up. “You promised.”

“I promised we’d get up and stretch our legs,” Harry reminds her, finally getting to his feet and stretching out his calves. Liam’s eyes drift down because she’s only human and Harry has the best legs she’s ever seen in her life and he’s _flexing_ them.

She takes a long gulp from the bottle of water she’d snagged earlier from the mini-bar to wet her suddenly parched throat.

“And going for a run is the best way to stretch them,” she points out, swiping the back of her hand over her wet lips.

“I’m only going because you’ve got those cute little shorts on,” Harry mumbles, gesturing towards Liam’s baby blue shorts. And okay, they might be a little on the skimpy side but she’s got great legs, dammit and she likes to show them off.

“And I’m only annoyed because you won’t wear your yellow ones,” Liam tosses over her shoulder as she finally opens the door and heads out into the hallway with Harry trailing behind her. “You can stare at my bum all you like Harry but you’re not gonna catch me.”

“Maybe I just prefer the view back here,” Harry counters. “It’s a nice view.”

“Yeah, I know how much you love a view Harry,” Liam says dryly, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder. “Just don’t Instagram this one, yeah?” Harry snorts from behind her and Liam’s steps feel a little lighter. They find Mark waiting by the elevators, Paddy and a few other guys from security milling around too because simply going for a run isn’t as easy these days as it used to be. Liam rarely goes running for that exact reason, but there’s an itch under her skin that she needs to race out of her system so she shoots the guys an apologetic smile that they all return easily and she steps into the elevator, stretching her arms out and humming to herself when the lift starts to descend.

*

Liam’s drenched in sweat when they arrive back at the hotel. Her hair is plastered to her head where strands have escaped from her ponytail, and her shorts and vest are sticking to her body. She should probably feel a bit gross except she’s too wired from the run to do anything but grin cheerfully as Harry clings to the sides of the elevator, still trying to catch his breath.

His hair is pulled back into a bun, although a few strands have worked their way out and are framing his flushed face. “I’m gonna beat you one day.” Harry’s been making the same threat for the past three years though so Liam’s not all that worried. “Then you’re going to be chasing me for once.”

Liam laughs at that, rubbing her hand over her face. “But it’s good for your ego to be chasing after a girl for once, Harry, instead of them always chasing you.” She softens her words by reaching up to rub Harry’s head, giggling when Harry pouts down at her. “Oh come on, I could go down to the lobby and find five girls without even trying and they’d be biting my hand to come up here and shag your brains out.”

“Ugh, not right now babe. I’m a bit tired.” Harry bats her hand away as the doors slide open and they shove at each other playfully as they walk towards their rooms.

“God I need a shower,” Liam mutters, wrinkling her nose and glancing down at her damp clothes. “I look disgusting.”

She almost misses the exaggerated leer Harry gives her because she’s fumbling in her shorts pocket for her key-card. They stop at her door and Harry crowds her back against it, bracketing her in with his arms. “I can join you if you like,” Harry says, dropping his voice to a low rumble. He waggles his eyebrows for effect and Liam’s too busy snickering to push him away. “I can wash your back. And it’ll save on water consumption. Showering together is good for the planet, Liam. I mean, who can argue with that?”

Liam finally manages to worm her hands up between them and flattens them against Harry’s solid chest. She gives him a good shove, grinning when he flails for a moment and his arms go up in a wild arc before he finds his balance again two steps back from where he’d been pressed up against her. Which is a much safer distance for when Harry’s harmlessly flirting with her and her stupid heart still wants to pretend it’s something more, even now after all these years. “I didn’t fall for that five years ago Harry, and I’m not going to fall for it now,” she reminds him huskily. “Save your charm for someone you’ve got a shot with, Styles.”

She turns to slip her card into the lock and twists the handle when it flashes green.

“Maybe I like the challenge.”

Liam spins around and Harry’s staring at her in that intense way he sometimes does. A shiver races through her and for a second, for the briefest of seconds, Liam sways towards him, her hand lifting slowly towards his chest.

“Oi, you two still joined at the hip then?”

Liam springs back, her hand swinging behind her to grab the handle as Harry takes his own step back, his expression darkening for a moment before he gracefully turns to grab Niall around the waist and tickle her until she’s squealing in his arms.

“Alright, well while you two are playing, I’m going to go shower,” Liam says a little more sharply than she means to. She pushes the door open and steps through, poking her head back out a second later to add, “by the way, Harry’s been running and he’s a big sweaty mess so don’t get too close.”

Niall takes a deep breath before her face screws up and she pushes Harry away towards his own room. “Didn’t want to see you anyway,” she says with a laugh, tossing her loose blonde hair back over her shoulder. “Came to see Liam, didn’t I?”

“Alright, give me five minutes,” Liam promises, stepping back and letting Niall saunter in. She leaves Niall to flick through the telly stations while she darts into the bathroom and washes the sweat and grime of the run away. Then she washes her hair and rinses off before she steps out of the shower, wrapping the hotel’s provided towel around her body and fastening it just under her arm. She reaches for another towel to gently pat her hair until it no longer drips down her back before she leans against the sink and stares into the mirror. Thankfully there’s no lasting effects from whatever bug she’d caught, but she still looks a little too pale.

When she eventually emerges from the bathroom, Niall’s sprawled out over the bed, lying on her front with her legs kicked up and swaying gently from side to side.

“What’s up?” Liam asks, leaning down to rummage in her bag for some clean underwear that she wriggles into, dropping her towel over the hotel chair and heading over to the bundle of cleaner clothes to dig out something that doesn’t smell too bad. She makes a promise to herself to do some laundry in the next hotel and maybe she’ll sneak a few tour outfits out of Caroline’s room when she’s not looking. In the meantime though she tugs on a white vest and Harry’s pale yellow shirt and steps into a pair of jeans that are too baggy for her but fit length-wise, which means they must be Harry’s too. She still doesn’t understand how their clothes always get so muddled, but she likes the way Harry’s clothes are always soft and comfortable and still smell a bit like him.

“So you and Harry seem inseparable recently,” Niall says quietly. Liam goes completely still before dropping down onto the bed next to her. Niall rolls over and puts her head in Liam’s lap. Liam strokes her hair almost absently with a frown. “Look, I mean it’s alright. No one’s gonna judge you guys. But if there’s feelings - like sexy feelings or romantic feelings or anything - then we kind of need to know. If it’s gonna affect the band.”

“C’mon Niall,” Liam says, and it comes out as more of a plea than Liam wants it to. She rubs her temple where it’s starting to ache a little. “No, we’re not shagging and neither are we gonna be shagging. Ever. Harry’s just been feeling a bit off recently and you know he gets all clingy and needy when he’s ill.”

Niall looks up at her with scepticism written all over her face.

“Oh come _on_ Niall, you know I’m telling the truth,” Liam says with just a hint of strain in her voice. Then she takes a breath and tries for a wobbly smile. “Besides, Harry wouldn’t ever be interested in me. Not seriously, anyway. I’m just a tomboy, the classic girl-next-door. And when has Harry ever gone for that type of girl? He’s into models and cute blonde singers, not plain old Liam from Wolverhampton who talks too fast and never says the right thing and who would rather veg out in a comfortable pair of joggers than go out all dressed up to those fancy places he likes. We’re like the least compatible couple ever. You and Harry would be a better couple. Hell, Zayn and Harry would be a better fit than me and Harry.”

Niall blinks up at her in bemusement and Liam drags in another shaky breath. “Liam,” Niall murmurs in that careful way she has about her when she thinks Liam’s being an idiot and needs to be handled gently, “Jesus, Liam. You’re prettier than all of Harry’s ex-girlfriends. Who all lasted what, two months at the most, by the way? And anyway, Harry’s not that bloody shallow and you fucking know it.”

Liam leans down and presses her lips against Niall’s forehead. “Love you,” she murmurs softly. “But we both know that I’m not in any of their leagues.”

Niall sighs in defeat, still looking troubled. “Just be careful Liam, please. You’re always getting your heart broken.”

“Well, that’s one thing we wouldn’t have to worry about anyway,” Liam says with forced cheer. She twiddles his ring around her finger mindlessly. “Harry would never break my heart. Ever. But it doesn’t even matter because we’re not together and we’re not ever going to be together and as soon as Harry feels better, he’ll find someone else to latch onto.”

Niall’s expression doesn’t seem to agree but Liam’s done talking about this. In fact, she was done talking about this five years ago when she first met Harry and became embarrassingly infatuated with him. It still makes her flush when she thinks about how desperately she wanted Harry’s attention when they first met. But the crush developed into friendship and Liam has absolutely no intention of letting it grow into anything else now. So she gently pries the remote from Niall’s hands and changes the channel to golf. Niall gives an unladylike snort but let’s Liam change the subject without another word.

*

Liam’s still awake when she hears the connecting door creaking open. After three hours of tossing and turning and feeling too hot even with the covers kicked off and the air-con up high, she’s feeling cranky and irritable. Harry’s head appears around the door and he’s biting his lip in what Liam supposes is an attempt to be quiet.

“C’mon,” she says grouchily and holds out her hand.

Watching Harry scoot across the room tempers her bad mood a little since Harry’s idea of stealth is to knock against the table, trip over Liam’s suitcase and crash into the bed, falling heavily next to Liam with a low “Oof!” followed by a wry, quiet laugh.

Liam leans over him, stroking his hair back from where it’s fallen over his face and shakes her head slowly. “You are such a flop,” she whispers. Harry doesn’t seem all that offended though as he drags the heavy duvet over both of them. Then he sneaks his arm under Liam’s shoulders and pulls her closer, exhaling slowly when Liam pillows her head against his shoulder and drops her hand onto his chest. Even with her fingers splayed outwards, her hand looks small against Harry and it makes her feel dainty and delicate in a way she rarely does with the boys.

“This is becoming a habit.” Liam strokes her hand idly over Harry’s smooth chest. “Everyone already thinks we’re sleeping together.”

“Technically that’s true,” Harry points out, his arms tightening around her. “Just keep your hands to yourself, Liam Payne. No touching the goods, alright?”

“I’ve seen your goods Harry.” She’s finally feeling a little sleepy and she throws her leg over Harry’s and sprawls out more comfortably, half on the mattress, half on Harry. “They’re not _that_ good. Trust me.”

Harry finds the sensitive slip of skin just above her hip where her pyjama top has ridden up and he pinches gently, making Liam grumble and fidget against him. “Go to sleep,” he rumbles gruffly, his thumb rubbing softly over her soft, marked skin apologetically.

Liam blows a raspberry against his shoulder just to be annoying but then she settles down and it’s not long before she’s fast asleep while Harry snores gently in her ear.

*

Liam wakes up slowly, yawning and opening her eyes to find that she’s curled on her side and Harry’s plastered against her back. Which explains why she’s so hot because Harry’s like a bloody furnace and he’s got his arm slung around her waist, keeping her locked against him. He mumbles something into her neck, making her shiver and she has to smother her giggles. Liam kicks the covers off and stretches as best she can with Harry wrapped around her. It’s only when she settles back against him that she realises Harry’s dick is hard and pressing insistently against her hip.

“Harry gerroff me.” She gives him a hard shove, rolling her eyes when Harry just cuddles her closer.

“But you’re all warm and cuddly,” Harry says sleepily, looking adorably happy as he crinkles his eyes at her.

“And you’re five seconds away from humping me like a monkey because you’ve woken up next to a warm body,” Liam says dryly, feigning indifference as she rubs at her eyes.

“Hey,” Harry protests, finally letting go of her long enough for Liam to wriggle free and slide out of bed, wincing at her terrible bed hair as she catches sight of herself in the mirror. “I’m not that shallow, Liam. I’m pretty sure my dick is equally attracted to your personality.”

Liam laughs, moving quickly to grab one of the many pillows on the bed and launching it right at Harry, smacking him dead in the face. Then she flounces off towards the bathroom, wiggling her hips for good measure and closing the door on Harry’s pained groan, giggling to herself as she reaches for her toothbrush.

She emerges ten minutes later, freshly showered and her body wrapped in a towel, to an empty room. Stepping into an old pair of faded denim cutoffs, she then wanders into Harry’s room and grabs one of his t-shirts and slips it over her head. It’s too big for her; the neck wide enough to sip down her shoulder and the shirt falling past her shorts so she tucks it into the waistband of her cutoffs and heads back to her room to finish getting ready.

When Harry reappears with damp hair, looking fresh-faced and a little smug, Liam wrinkles her nose. “Please don’t tell me about your happy shower time,” she pleads.

“Alright,” Harry says easily, his hand curling around her hip as they head out into the hallway and make their way downstairs.

Harry casually slips his arm around her shoulders when they’re sat at the table and waiting for their breakfast to arrive, Liam leans towards him and breathes in the fresh, familiar scent of his stupidly expensive, organic shower gel.

And they deliberately ignore the pointed looks Niall shoots them across the table.

“I’ve been cooped up too long,” Louis declares, forcing Liam to look up from where she’d been playing with her cereal, feeling restless and fidgety. “Let’s go play some footie, yeah? Stretch our legs. Get a bit dirty. You in Liam?”

Louis’ not even looking at her, already half-turned towards Zayn with his pleading face on because while Liam’s a sure thing, Zayn’s rarely in the mood for a kick-about. Liam turns to Harry, a stricken look on her face that matches the sudden furious beating of her heart. “Uh,” she manages before Harry’s hand slides up from where it had been resting on the back of her chair to curl around her shoulder. His grip tightens and Liam exhales slowly while her heart rate calms down. “Hey Lou,” she tries again, biting on her lip when Louis turns back towards her, his eyebrows drawn down into a frown. “Uh, I think Harry and I might go play squash, or maybe tennis. Actually. Um, sorry.”

She can see Harry nodding out of the corner of her eye and a strange sense of relief washes through her.

“Okay,” Louis says slowly and his eyes shift between the two of them calculatingly. “You’re getting pretty territorial over Liam, Harry.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Niall complains next to him, her arms folded against her chest, looking thoroughly put out.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Harry says gruffly. His fingers are biting painfully into Liam’s skin but she keeps quiet and places her hand on Harry’s thigh, stroking his leg gently through the soft, worn denim.

Louis’ frown deepens but he keeps quiet for once, and Liam breathes a huge sigh of relief.

There’s a subdued mood between the group for the rest of breakfast and Liam practically leaps out of her chair when Harry suggests they go book a court. Half an hour later, they’re dressed for a workout and stood facing each other on one of the hotel’s two tennis courts. Harry’s already snapped a picture of their rackets lying on the court and the vibration of Liam’s phone tells her that he’s instagrammed it. Now though she’s swaying gracefully from side to side, her racket loose in both hands as she narrows her eyes at Harry.

Harry’s been bouncing the ball on the baseline for about five minutes and ignoring Liam’s teasing smack talk. So it takes her by surprise when he finally tosses the ball up into the air and hits a perfect serve right down the middle of the court. She almost wrenches her arm out of its socket when she reaches for it but she connects and returns the ball, giving her enough time to shake it off and regain her balance, ready for Harry’s return.

“That the best you’ve got, Styles?” she calls over the net, leaning down far enough that Harry could see down her polo shirt, if he happened to look.

Harry’s return pass flies wide and Liam smugly stands up, smoothing her hair back into its ponytail. “Keep your eye on the ball, Harry. You’re too easily distracted.”

“Stop flashing me then!” Harry calls over his shoulder as he grabs another ball. “It’s cheating.”

“I do _not_ cheat!” Liam feigns outrage, even as she very deliberately bends down again, softly swaying her hips as she waits for Harry to serve again.

He bobbles the ball twice before he manages to get it over the net. This time, pure power wins over feminine wiles and Liam concedes the point with a cheerful shrug. While Liam’s a naturally better tennis player than Harry, he has the advantages of height and power so they’re evenly matched on the whole.

Harry strips off his shirt halfway through the second set and Liam spends the next game glaring at him while she misses three easy shots in a row. “Aha!” Harry crows when Liam throws her racquet to the ground in a pissy fit. “Now who’s distracted?”

“Shut up,” Liam mutters, grabbing a bottle of water and taking a long drink from it.

“It’s the tattoos, right?” Harry says thoughtfully as he glances down at his own arms. “Or is it because I’ve been working out lately? I had to go up a clothes size last month.”

“In women’s jeans,” Liam points out meanly. She’s mostly annoyed that until last month, she and Harry wore the same damn size, even if she did have to roll up the cuffs a little when she borrowed a pair.

“They fit better,” Harry says easily. They’ve all teased Harry mercilessly about it but he continues to buy them and Liam shamelessly borrows them when she needs to, even while she’s complaining about them.

When they reach set point for Liam on Harry’s serve, Liam’s skin is damp with sweat and her cheeks are flushed. She’s stretching for every ball and grunting every time Harry manages to connect and send the ball sailing back over the net. She sees her chance with a cheeky drop shot, her grin blossoming as Harry’s face falls when he realises and she sinks to her knees, her arms stretched high above her head as she cries out in victory.

She barely registers Harry leaping over the net gracefully and tackling her all the way to the ground until she’s flat on her back with Harry’s weight pinning her down. They’re both sweaty and disgusting and Liam’s still whooping with delight as Harry resorts to tickling her. Still high off her win, Liam fights back with nimble fingers that find, with unerring accuracy, the sensitive spot just above Harry’s hip that makes him squirm and wriggle above her.

Breathless with laughter and exhilaration, Liam’s about to reach up to tug Harry’s hair loose from the bright red headband he’s wearing when she pauses with her hand in mid-air. Harry’s leaning over her, bracketing her inside the shelter of his body and he’s caught staring at her mouth. His hair has fallen down, framing his face and Liam’s breath catches. Her throat dries up and she flicks her tongue out unthinkingly to wet her lips, which draws a low, drawn out moan from Harry.

“Liam,” he murmurs hoarsely.

She’s pinned to the ground by his gaze, and the naked hunger she can read so clearly on his face. Her hips lift slightly, brushing up against Harry and she’s about to arch up, to grab Harry’s face and-

“Hey, guys?”

It takes Liam longer to react than Harry, who rolls off her effortlessly and climbs to his feet, offering an unsteady hand to Liam. She lets Harry pull her up, their hands lingering together before she pulls free to smooth down her wrinkled shirt with shaking hands and looks up at Zayn.

“Paul needs us to be ready in like, half an hour to run through the security detail.” Zayn gives them both measured looks before he turns around and heads back out without another word.

Liam laughs a little awkwardly and grabs her racquet. “Right, better get ready then. Um, I’m gonna hit the showers,” she says, a little too cheerfully. “Meet you in your room in twenty?”

She doesn’t even wait for Harry’s nod before she makes her escape, racing up to her room in record speed, desperately trying not to think about what Zayn almost interrupted. She wastes no time showering and lets her damp hair hang loose down her back, by which time she’s convinced herself that Zayn hadn’t interrupted anything because there simply wasn’t anything to interrupt. She drags on a pair of boyfriend jeans and throws one of Harry’s plaid shirts over her white vest just in time for Harry to appear in her doorway looking freshly clean and a bit ridiculous in a pair of tight black jeans and a pink and yellow shirt that Liam’s sure cost more than her entire outfit.

“You’ve got the worst fashion sense, Harry,” she says with a shake of her head, moving around the room to grab her purse and throw a spare lip gloss inside just in case they pass any fans who want a picture. She doesn’t mind going make-up free; in fact she prefers it most of the time, but she needs lip gloss as a bare minimum, according to Lou. Liam doesn’t actually disagree, after one too many unfortunate paparazzi pictures and cruel comments posted that had made her cry into her pillow late at night.

They’re still bickering over Harry’s shirt when they fall into the conference room where the rest of the band, Paul and some of the other security guys are waiting.

“Sorry we’re late,” Harry says sincerely as he helps Liam into a chair and slides into the empty one next to her.

Paul gives them an odd look but Liam schools her face into an attentive expression and listens carefully as Paul briefs them all on his security measures. They’re well trained by now so it doesn’t take more than twenty minutes before Paul wraps it up.

“Be ready by four, and don’t come down to the lobby unless you’re being escorted by your security guy,” Paul reminds them, ignoring Louis’ eye rolling and the fact that Zayn’s attention clearly drifted away at least ten minutes ago. “I mean it, Louis.”

“Yes boss,” Louis says smartly, adding a salute as Paul shakes his head and leads the rest of the team out of the room. As soon as the door shuts behind them, Louis whips around and levels his gaze at Liam and Harry. “Right, you two. What the hell? No band secrets, remember?”

Liam glances at Harry, who looks as confused as she feels. “Yeah?” she says hesitantly.

“So what’s with the hand holding then?” Louis demands.

“What hand holding?”

Exasperated, Louis turns to Niall. “Are we in the fucking twilight zone?”

“Lou,” Zayn says warningly, reaching out to wrap his hand around Louis’ wrist. It seems to calm him down enough that he slumps back in his chair and folds his arms huffily. “Uh Liam, are you and Harry dating?”

“We already talked about this, Zayn,” Liam says, tensing up.

“Alright,” Zayn says quietly. He nods once almost to himself before he leans forward in his chair and rests his elbows on the glass table. “Liam, you’re holding Harry’s hand.”

“No I’m not,” Liam says, her words trailing off as she glances down to prove her point, only to find that Harry’s fingers are indeed tangled with hers. Frowning, Liam looks up to find Harry staring in bemusement at their hands too. “Oh.”

“Okay what the fuck is going on, guys?” Niall bursts out, bringing her hands down onto the table and making them all jump in surprise.

“Nothing,” Harry says slowly, but he sounds confused.

“Well I don’t like it,” Niall says. She’s glaring at both of them and Liam leans back against the chair, curling into herself defensively. “Something’s going on and if you’re lyin’ to me, I’m gonna kill you both.”

She stands up and stomps out of the room, letting the door slam behind her.

“Well,” Louis says, sounding unsure and bemused. He shoots Liam and Harry one last look before he stands up too and Zayn swiftly follows him out of the room, both of them casting looks back over their shoulder as they leave.

Liam’s grip tightens around Harry’s hand and they sit in silence for a long time, both of them staring at their joined hands.

*

There’s a weird tension in the backstage area when they arrive for sound-check. Liam chooses to ignore it though as they run through the songs and then they’re hurried backstage to get ready. She barely has a moment to think before she’s standing at the top of the dais, ready to run down the stairs, microphone in hand as the opening chords burst through the stadium and she loses herself in the sights and sounds of the crowd and the music.

She gyrates with Niall to the loud screams of the crowd before she dances across to Zayn and drapes her arm around his waist, squeezing tight as she lets her head fall onto his shoulder. They harmonise over the chorus together and then she’s racing down the stage, laughing when Louis catches her in his arms and they have a quick shoving match while Niall sings her verse. Louis ends up stealing her snapback, which she later swipes back from Niall and the crowd is screaming the entire time. Liam’s eyes are bright with excitement and electricity as she dances across the stage and down the walkway.

She’s missed this. Breaks are great to unwind and Liam loves going home to see her parents and sisters, loves playing in the park with Loki and catching up with Andy and all her friends, but there’s nothing like performing onstage with Niall and the boys. It’s an experience she can’t explain, although all she has to do is look up to watch Harry dancing dorkily for some kids or Louis pressing his hand against his diaphragm while he sings or Niall beaming as she rocks out on her guitar or Zayn with his eyes closed, head tipped back as he reaches effortlessly for a high note that she’s still envious of, and she knows she has four bandmates who understand exactly what she’s feeling.

The first few chords of Little Things play and Liam’s completely out of position. She races down the stage, her hair flying behind her until she reaches the steps where the rest of the band have settled. Zayn’s just started his verse and Liam takes Harry’s offered hand gratefully. She’s about to drop into his lap, Harry’s arm curling around her waist easily as she folds her legs beneath her when Louis grabs her hand and yanks.

Hard.

She stumbles against the steps, falling heavily as Harry makes an odd, protesting sound but Louis leans forward and glares at both of them. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he hisses. “Cut it the fuck out. Not on stage. Not unless you want to start rumours that will get out of hand in about oh, five seconds?”

Instinctively Liam lifts the microphone and sings her verse, rubbing her sore elbow while the words come as naturally as breathing. Harry’s still glaring at Louis over Liam’s head but she focuses her own attention on the crowd, forcing a smile even though her head is spinning. And when she drops the microphone, she has to fight the urge to reach out for Harry’s hand. She holds herself stiff and rigid throughout the rest of the song and she’s the first one on her feet as soon as it ends, racing back down the stage and breathing harder with each step as she tries to focus on the show.

She hopes no one with a camera phone catches the wild, desperate look she sends Harry though. Or the one he sends her right back that makes her stumble for a moment before she regains her balance and sends an embarrassed smile out into the sea of faces before her.

The rest of the show is a bit of a blur and Zayn catches her as soon as they step offstage. By tacit silent agreement, they head straight for the cars. Paul doesn’t say a word and just sends his security ahead to cover the change in routine. For once, Liam’s grateful to slide into her car alone and Paddy sits next to her without saying a word for the short journey back to the hotel.

She twirls Harry’s ring around her finger and stares out at the city as it rushes past. Her heart is still racing and she keeps reliving that moment on stage when it had seemed so natural to drop into Harry’s lap. None of them have ever done that before onstage, not in all the years they’ve been performing. They’ve never forgotten where they are and who is watching. But Harry had been reaching for her at the same time that she’d been ready to settle herself in Harry’s arms, and Liam can feel the panic rising inside of her.

“We’re here,” Paddy murmurs quietly. He opens the door and climbs out, shielding Liam as she follows him. Then there’s twelve long steps into the hotel. Fifteen more to the elevator. Twenty six seconds until they reach their floor.

Niall and Harry are waiting for her when the doors open and Liam steps between them, her anxiety levels dropping as they move like a unit towards Louis’ room. Louis appears behind them, pushing forward to open the door and flicking on the lights for them to follow.

When they’re all settled, Zayn leans forward from where he’s sitting on the end of Louis’ bed and holds Liam’s gaze. “Liam, if there’s something going on between you and Harry, even if you’re not calling it dating or whatever, we need to know.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Zayn,” Liam says, frustrated. She runs her hand through her hair and sighs heavily. “C’mon. We’d tell you. Nothing is going on!”

“Then what’s going on, because the two of you are inseparable right now,” Niall points out. She’s scratching her fingernails across her wrist carelessly and Louis reaches over to cover her hand, stilling her movements.

Concerned, Liam shakes her head. “Niall, honestly we’re not doing anything different. I don’t know what happened onstage, I swear. I guess I just forgot where we were for a second. But everything’s fine. I’ll be more careful in future. I promise, okay?”

Louis must tighten his grip around Niall’s hand because she squeaks loudly, pulling away and glaring at Louis, who ignores her to lean forward. “Liam, are you aware of what you’re even doing right now? Are you aware that you’re curled up in Harry’s lap? That you’re stroking his hair? Do you know that Harry’s hand is wrapped around your leg? Do you even know what the bloody hell you’re doing?!”

Frowning, Liam looks down and she’s shocked to find that Louis’ telling the truth. Harry’s hand is stroking up and down her thigh, his other hand wrapped around Liam’s waist and yet Liam can’t even remember climbing into Harry’s lap.

Harry looks as bewildered as she feels.

“Oh my god,” Liam whispers, fighting back another round of panic.

“Maybe you two should spend tomorrow apart,” Zayn says softly, but there’s worry written all over his face. “We miss you guys.”

“It’s only been a few days,” Harry mumbles quietly enough that only Liam hears him. She moves her hand to cover his where it’s resting on her knee and she strokes her thumb over his knuckles, the slow movement calming her ragged thoughts. “Yeah, we can do that,” he adds, loud enough that everyone else can hear him. “Been meaning to take Louis shopping anyway.”

“Oh my god,” Louis groans, dropping his face into his hands. “Why?”

“Because Zayn keeps complaining that you’re stealing all his shirts and you haven’t bought anything new in ages,” Harry says. “Caroline’s been trying to get you to go shopping for months.”

“Can’t I just wear whatever she buys?” Louis whines.

“Good question,” Harry says dryly. They all know Louis’ the fussiest of all of them and will happily spend hours fighting with Caroline over one t-shirt, until she storms out of the room, refusing to ever work with him again. “But I mean, if you want me to spend time with you-”

“Fine,” Louis says, folding his arms and glaring at Harry, who just grins back at him, dimples flashing. “Fine. You wanna go shopping? I bet there’s an Adidas shop in town we can shut down for a few hours.”

Harry’s face drops comically. “Lou!”

“Yes, Harold?”

“Fine,” Harry mutters, scowling. “We can go to the Adidas shop. But then we’re going to YSL and some other places too. _Nice_ places.”

“We’ll see,” Louis says smugly.

“Yeah,” Harry returns firmly. “We will.”

Liam and Niall share a grin while Zayn’s got his eyes closed and is pretending not to be here right now.

“Well, I’m going to bed,” Liam says, standing up and feeling a bit bereft when Harry’s hands fall away from her. “I’ll see you in the morning then, Niall?”

“It’s a date,” Niall says, winking at her.

Liam leans down and presses her lips to the top of Niall’s head, before she does the same to the lads. Then she forces herself to leave the room, her steps heavy and slow until she steps into her own room. She drags out her night-time routine; spends far too long brushing her teeth and cleaning her face. She even moisturises - which she normally forgets to do, to Lou’s annoyance - before changing into her favourite Batman pyjamas.

She’s just about to get into bed when the door between her and Harry’s room opens and Harry appears wearing black pyjama pants, slung low on his hips below his fern tattoos. He looks sheepish, standing with his hands in his pockets and looking hopefully at Liam’s bed.

“Come on then,” Liam says lightly, and her breathing eases with each step that brings Harry closer. He climbs in next to her and immediately pulls her close, tucking his body around her with an ease and familiarity that makes Liam smile into her pillow. Harry’s huge hand settles flat against her tummy and she can feel the happy rumbling noise he makes against her neck.

“We can totally spend tomorrow apart,” Harry mumbles behind her. His grip on her tightens just a little and Liam wriggles back an inch or two into the curve of his body, warming her from behind. Sliding her foot between his legs, she laughs softly and covers his hand with her own and lets sleep claim her.

*

Liam had woken up with Harry wrapped around her like a cocoon. His leg was thrown over hers, unconsciously pinning her to the bed and weighing a tonne. She had hair tickling against her neck and Harry was breathing into the curve of her shoulder, making her shiver with each exhale.

And Harry’s hard dick was pressing into her hip.

Liam was tempted to put her hand on Harry’s shoulder and push him back against the mattress. To throw her leg over his body and settle herself over his hips. Let herself rock gently against his erection until her body was shaking with orgasm, and then let Harry catch her in his arms and cuddle her for the rest of the morning between soft, teasing kisses and wandering hands.

She stumbles out of bed, confused and unsteady, heading straight for the shower. There’s an itch under her skin that only grows worse as she carefully washes her body and zones out. When she blinks back into conscious thought, she’s got two fingers deep inside of herself and she’s leaning against the cool tiles of the shower and moaning incoherently as she quickly builds to an orgasm.

She knows she’s getting louder with her moans and whines, but she doesn’t care. With water sluicing down her body, she can’t stop herself picturing Harry in the shower with her, crowding her back against the wall as he thrusts his fingers inside of her. It’s a fantasy she’s allowed herself only a handful of times over the years, unwilling to indulge herself when it came to Harry and how much she wants him, preferring to bury it away and not think about something she can’t have.

And Liam won’t do anything that could damage this band of hers. Not a single damn thing.

But her willpower deserts her, and she murmurs Harry’s name over and over again as her movements speed up, her fingers pushing inside without care or abandon as she uses her thumb to stimulate her clit. Overcome with emotion, her body trembling with need and want and aching desperation, she cries out Harry’s name as she comes, breathless and hot and weak at the knees. She slumps back against the wall, inhaling ragged, deep breaths until her pulse returns to something vaguely normal.

The room is empty when she walks back in, and fighting a weird feeling of disappointment, she gets ready in record time and heads downstairs to find the rest of the band already sitting there. Harry’s squeezed between Louis and Niall, and Liam quietly drops into the chair next to Zayn, fighting back bitter disappointment. She might have agreed to the separation, but that doesn’t mean she has to like it. Not when she keeps catching Harry’s gaze and he looks as miserable as she feels.

After breakfast, Niall and Zayn don’t even let her say goodbye to Harry before they whisk her upstairs and into Niall’s bedroom. Liam’s trying her best to be enthusiastic about Niall’s attempts to cheer her up but she can’t help glancing at her watch every few seconds and trying to figure out how much time is left before Harry returns from his shopping trip with Louis.

The only answer she can come up with is _too long_.

After a while, she’s too restless to focus on what Niall’s saying because there’s a pounding ache in her temples and she feels a little nauseated.

“We can go play squash or something,” Niall suggests without much hope, cutting through Liam’s miserable thoughts.

She looks up and manages a sad smile that has Niall exhaling and reaching over to cuddle her close. “What’s happening to me, Niall?” she asks, completely lost.

“I don’t know,” Niall murmurs, running her hand up and down Liam’s back soothingly. “But we’ll figure it out Liam, I promise.”

“S’not normal,” Liam says, burying her face in Niall’s neck. She feels another set of arms wrap around her and Zayn’s warm body pressing against her back. “Something’s wrong.”

“Let’s just go out and do something that will take your mind off … it,” Niall says, pulling back but keeping her hands wrapped firmly around Liam’s wrists. Zayn’s cheek rests against hers and he’s rubbing her arms comfortingly.

She’s still visibly trembling though.

“My head hurts,” Liam whispers, her voice cracking as she falls back against Zayn and lets him take her weight.

Whatever Niall had been about to say is interrupted by her phone going off. Niall reluctantly releases Liam’s wrists and picks her phone up, frowning as she sees who is calling. “Lou?” she answers, her gaze flickering over to Liam.

“Fuck,” Niall swears eloquently after a beat, and her face tightens in a way that has Liam leaning forward and anxiety rolls off her in waves. “Alright, we’ll be in the lobby waiting. Alright, yeah. Yeah. Bye Lou.”

“Well?” Liam asks anxiously.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Niall says quickly, but her flushed cheeks belie her words. “Harry’s just uh, fainted. A little bit.”

“He’s fainted?” Zayn’s voice rises in disbelief. “Like, passed out?”

“Lou said they got to the first store and he looked really ill, like he was shaking and sweating,” Niall says, biting her lip and looking worried. “Then he just collapsed and Louis tried to catch him but they both went down and it took a few minutes for Harry to come back around. They’re in the car now and Harry’s weak, but he’s awake. They’ll be here soon.”

“Downstairs,” Liam croaks. Zayn has to help her up off the bed and Niall flanks her other side as they make their way downstairs. Liam’s legs are trembling too much for her to be much use but Zayn’s arm around her waist steadies her and Niall’s constant chatter about how Harry will be fine keep her grounded enough to make it to the lobby.

Then it’s just a long, agonising wait for the car to appear. Liam stares at her watch, counting the seconds as they pass by. She’s just gotten to 402 when there’s movement at the door and a sea of bodyguards head out of the lobby. Then Louis appears, looking ashen and worried and all Liam can do is try and see past him to find Harry. When she catches sight of him, finally, Paul’s practically carrying him bridal style and Harry’s lying limp in his arms, his face pale with flushed cheeks that look unnatural on his usually tanned face. Liam lets out a sob and rushes forward, grabbing Harry’s cool hand and pressing it against her cheek.

“Liam, out of the way,” Paul grunts as he heads for the elevator.

“No,” Liam says fiercely and she steps into the lift with them, ignoring the exasperated look Paul sends her. “C’mon Harry, I’m here,” she murmurs, leaning in to press her lips against his cheek. “C’mon. Stop being such a drama queen. I’m right here.”

She keeps murmuring quiet, insistent demands for Harry to wake up and when Paul deposits him on his bed, Liam crawls up next to him and stretches her body out lengthwise, pressing against him as much as she dares. She runs her hands over him, touching skin wherever she can. She throws her leg over his and slides her hand up under his shirt, keeping her touch light as her shaking hands skim over his body. Burying her face into his neck, she drags in a shuddering breath and curls herself around him protectively.

“Come on Harry,” she mumbles into his skin, low enough that only Harry can hear her - if he’s listening. “Please babe. Wake up.” Her eyes are wet so she squeezes them shut tight and ignores the anxiety pressing down on her chest. “Harry. Wake up. I need you to wake up. Please. God, please Harry. Wake up. I need you.”

“He’s waking up,” Zayn murmurs.

Liam looks up in surprise to find Zayn, Louis and Niall standing around them, looking worried and in Niall’s case, absolutely petrified. And when she glances back down at Harry, his eyelashes are fluttering against his cheeks, like he’s trying to wake up.

“Harry,” she whispers brokenly. Her fingers trail over his face and his skin feels warmer. “Harry, I’m here. Wake up. Please wake up.”

“You worry too much,” Harry mumbles sluggishly.

Liam lets out a shaky, only slightly hysterical laugh before she flings her arms around him, half-laying on top of him and probably smothering him but she can’t let go. And Harry’s hands fist around her shirt, holding her close and dragging in shuddering breaths that cause Liam to whimper pained noises.

“This is really starting to freak me the fuck out,” Niall says shakily. “What the hell is wrong with them?”

“No fucking clue but separating them was clearly a bad fucking idea,” Louis says, sounding just as shaken and Liam wants to turn and reassure him that they’re both okay but she can’t move with Harry’s tight grip on her and she’s not sure she really wants to let go of him either. Her headache has finally disappeared and she’s no longer hearing the faint buzzing sound that’s been driving her mad all morning.

“Liam was looking a bit ill this morning too,” Zayn notes thoughtfully.

“Yeah?” Louis doesn’t sound surprised by the information. “Well I’ve never been so fucking terrified in my life when Harry hit the floor. Just went down like a sack of spuds.”

“So separation is a bad idea,” Niall says, and it sounds like she’s pacing the room. “What else?”

“Overly touchy-feely,” Zayn murmurs. “And they don’t seem to even be aware of it, half the time.”

Liam finally pushes herself up slightly and holds Harry’s searching gaze for a moment before she rolls over to face everyone while Harry’s arm curves around her shoulders and swipes a hand over her tear-stained cheeks. “It’s like I don’t want Harry to be out of my sight,” she admits quietly, her voice barely above a whisper as she finally vocalises what she’s been feeling. “And I feel better when he’s around.”

“Sounds like you’ve been cursed,” Niall mutters as she drops down onto the end of the bed and shoves a shaky hand through her hair.

The conversation continues to whirl around her but Liam’s gaze slowly falls on Harry’s ring where it’s lying heavily on her finger. Her hand is splayed over Harry’s chest and the ring is touching Harry’s skin where his shirt falls open.

Her breath catches.

“What?” Harry asks quietly, holding himself tense.

Wordlessly, she lifts her hand and angles it so that the ring catches the light streaming in through the window. Harry’s hand closes around her fingers and he strokes his thumb over the gleaming gold band, a frown marring his expression.

“What?” Louis asks impatiently. When Liam and Harry turn towards him, he takes one look at their faces, looks down at their joined hands before his face clears and he starts laughing. Loudly. “Oh come on, guys. She was joking. Niall, tell them you were joking!”

“I was joking,” Niall says slowly, but she sounds sceptical.

Even Zayn is leaning forward and staring at the ring. “Where did you get it, mate?”

“From some vintage shop in town,” Harry says slowly. “Went shopping a few days ago before you guys flew in, and there was this little old shop that looked really quaint and unusual.”

Liam lets out a groan and gives him a not-so gentle shove. “Really? Some little old quaint shop? Was it run by witches, Harry?”

“Witches aren’t real, Liam, stop being so stupid,” Louis says firmly, and he turns to Zayn with a fierce look in his eyes. “Tell her, Zayn. This isn’t an episode of fucking Buffy, mate, and Harry Potter isn’t real. Tell her, Zayn. _Tell her_.”

Zayn raises his eyebrows at him before he lifts his eyebrows and gestures to the way Liam and Harry are still entwined around each other. At some point in the conversation, she’d slid her leg between Harry’s and his hand is curled around her hip possessively.

“Well, something’s wrong with them and I don’t have a better explanation,” Zayn says finally. “Do you?”

“No, but I don’t think a cursed ring should be top of our fucking list,” Louis says snarkily.

“Tell us what happened at the shop, Harry,” Niall says as she reaches over to grab Louis’ hand. Louis makes a grumbling noise but he sits back in his chair and looks defiant in defeat.

“The girl who served me was really nice,” Harry says with a little shrug. Liam tries not to feel horribly jealous by Harry’s compliment for the unknown shop girl but her face must betray her because Harry cuddles her closer and presses his face into her hair, breathing in her scent.

Liam relaxes just a little and looks up to find three identical worried expressions in front of her.

“It’s the curse,” she mutters and not even Louis argues with her this time.

“Anyway,” Harry says loudly, and Liam sighs with relief, “she wanted a picture so I took one and then I left with the ring.”

Niall’s eyeing Harry suspiciously. “Did you smile in the photo?”

“Of course I did!” Harry says indignantly.

“Harry-” Niall begins warningly.

“Well, I’m pretty sure I did,” Harry says, this time more sheepishly. “I don’t really remember?”

Louis huffs loudly and stands up. Then he leans over the bed and holds his hand out in front of Liam. “Give me the ring then, if it’s cursed. Let’s get it checked out so you can all see how ridiculous you’re being.”

Liam immediately pulls her hand back out of Louis’ reach and Harry smacks his hand away. There’s a startled silence as the three of them stare wide-eyed at each other, broken only when Louis belatedly says a flat “Ouch.”

“I can’t,” Liam says miserably. She’s tucked her hand between her and Harry, and Harry’s shielding her protectively with his body, angling himself between her and Louis, who looks a little outraged. “Lou, I’m sorry. I think it’s the ring, it won’t let me.”

“Well I still think you’re being ridiculous but I guess you can keep it on for a little bit,” Louis says. When Liam frowns up at him, Louis shrugs. “Well, we’re going back to the shop, right? We’ll talk to the girl and find out if she’s been watching a little too much Harry Potter and the Vengeful Fan.”

While Louis, Niall and Zayn argue over how the five of them are going to sneak out of the hotel that’s surrounded by paps and fans, get into town without being noticed and what their back-up plan would be if the girl isn’t actually in the shop, Liam gives into the pull that she’s been trying to ignore unsuccessfully and curls herself around Harry. The moment Harry wraps his arms around her, Liam breathes a little easier and buries her face into Harry’s neck, inhaling deeply and trying not to purr happily while Harry strokes her hair. It feels easier now that there’s a possible reason behind everything she’s been feeling recently. And she has no trouble believing that a cursed ring is to blame, and not just because she’s spent a huge amount of time wishing that she could go to Hogwarts and fly on a broomstick and be besties with Hermione. Shut away in her bedroom back home, she’d watched the Harry Potter films on repeat from under the covers and dreamt of being far away. Somewhere else.

Liam might be living an extraordinary life, travelling to exotic places she never dreamed of seeing and living out all her dreams, but she knows she doesn’t get the happy-ever-after she’s desperately been searching for. As much as she’d like to be a free spirit and carefree like Harry or Niall, the truth is she loves being in a relationship. She loves to stay in and watch crappy movies and leave her hair up in a messy bun and not worry about dressing up or being camera-ready. She’s not like Harry, who likes going out and being photographed and seen with all the right people. She enjoys getting dressing up now and again for events but she’s happiest at home, curled up almost exactly how she is now, with someone she loves.

But that’s not for Harry. Harry’s as tactile as any of them but for the past few years he’s grown into himself, happy to be independent from the rest of them and spreading his wings. And Liam’s glad for him and immensely proud of him for the way he’s grown from the boy she first met who tucked himself into Louis’ side more often than not and hated doing solo interviews. Now he lives thousands of miles away from the rest of them and it’s not unusual during their breaks for weeks to pass by without Liam hearing from him.

And she needs to remember that none of these moments have been real. Liam feels a bit sick thinking about it, but the nights they’ve slept together in the same bed and the fun they’d had playing tennis and Harry choosing to spend time with Liam over the rest of the band haven’t been real, no matter how hard she wishes otherwise. Harry had been reacting to the stupid cursed ring, and Liam sniffles quietly into Harry’s shoulder, letting him pull her closer. And because she selfishly wants to hoard these moments to herself so she can remember them when Harry’s off in LA or he asks Niall to play golf and leaves Liam behind, she doesn’t pull away even though she knows she should.

“Hey,” Harry murmurs, breaking through her cloud of miserable thoughts. “Babe, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she says thickly, refusing to lift her head because she has a sneaking suspicion that her eyes will be red-rimmed and her skin will be horribly blotchy and unattractive.

There’s a beat before Harry manages to wrangle his finger under her chin and he tips her head back, forcing her gaze to meet his. “Hey,” he says softly. “It’s just us now. They’ve gone to get Paul and figure out how to fix this. So if you want to, we can talk about this?”

“Don’t,” Liam blurts out, squeezing her eyes shut tight. “I can’t.” Lying to Harry, to any of them really, isn’t one of Liam’s talents. She’s terrible at it. Louis swears she has a million tells. “I’ll be okay when we get to the shop and sort this stuff out, I promise.”

“Alright,” Harry murmurs. There’s an odd note in his voice that has Liam opening her eyes to look up at him. The sad twist of Harry’s smile has Liam reaching up to cup his cheek and she pulls him down to press their foreheads together. She can feel his warm breath ghosting over her skin and she feels a faint shiver race through her body.

When Harry’s hands cup her face, Liam lets him guide her head back so she’s looking up at him. There’s an unusual submission in every ounce of her body and she can’t control the way her body is trembling at Harry’s touch.

When Harry murmurs her name, Liam’s breathing turns ragged and she feels utterly lost. All she can focus on is the dark, fierce look in Harry’s green eyes, and she cleaves towards him helplessly. She’d swear before this moment that she knew Harry inside and out after four years of learning every single look, sound and movement that he makes. But the hungry way Harry’s staring at her with is new, and it’s making her feel weak in a way she’s never felt before. Her hands are gripping onto Harry’s arms for dear life, and she’s arching up towards him in silent question.

Her voice breaks as she whispers his name. Harry looks as wrecked as she feels, and he carefully nuzzles her cheek, his hands gentle on her neck and his thumbs stroking soothingly over her flushed skin.

Harry’s gaze dips down and she parts her lips helplessly. She wants Harry to kiss her. She wants to know what it feels like to have Harry want her the way she wants him. She wants to remember the feel of Harry’s lips on hers and she wants to see how Harry looks when he’s been thoroughly kissed by her. She wants to tug her hands through his hair until he looks as ruined as she feels.

Liam knows it’s not real though. She knows it would be taking advantage of Harry, and that’s the only thing that’s stopping her from leaning in and closing the distance between them. But it doesn’t stop her feeling jealous of every person that’s gotten to have this part of Harry that she can’t have. The bitter feeling rises up inside of her until she desperately wants to tattoo her name across his skin, entwined with the stories already etched there, for people to see her claim.

She wants to know every part of Harry that she hasn’t seen yet. She wants to know exactly what will make him gasp with pleasure and lose control. She wants to see what ridiculous face he pulls when he comes, and whether she could fuck the politeness out of him and make him pin her against the mattress and lose himself for just a few minutes.

And god, she’d bet her entire fortune on Harry being really, really good at oral sex.

Just once, she tells herself recklessly. Just this once. She can feel herself leaning closer, her eyelids fluttering shut as her heartbeat races out of control. Harry’s hands soften as he pulls her closer.

“Guys?”

The sound of Niall’s voice breaking through the haze that’s wrapped around them makes Liam jump back with a start. There’s a guilty look on Harry’s face that she’s pretty sure is mirrored on her own face.

“Yeah, so Paul’s arranged a car for us,” Niall says awkwardly, like she knows she’s interrupted something. “He’s pretty annoyed, but what’s new, huh?”

Liam manages a weak smile but it’s an effort. “Thanks Niall,” she says, and she even sounds like she means it. Mostly.

“Okay, well it’ll be downstairs in five minutes. I’ll see you down there?”

Liam nods wanly and waits for Niall to walk out of the room before she turns back to Harry. She’s barely able to look him in the eye but she forces herself to.

He looks paler than usual underneath his tan and his skin is too hot under her hands where they’re clamped around his arms. She supposes she probably doesn’t look much better, and yet it’s still an effort for them to crawl off the bed because every time they let go of each other, they can’t help but make pained noises and grab for each other again until their heartbeats calm down to somewhere approaching normal.

It’s bloody exhausting.

They make it to the lobby clinging to each other and their eyes darting around the room to make sure there’s no cameras to catch them with their hands all over each other. Harry’s got an arm around Liam’s waist and Liam’s tucked her hand into the back of Harry’s jeans with her thumb dipping below the waistband of his boxers. They’re also holding hands and curled into each other, their legs pressed together like they’re running a three-legged race and it must look absurd but after two minutes of flailing around Harry’s hotel room, it had been the only way they could make it to the elevator.

Thankfully the lobby is empty save for the boys, Paul and the security team. The bodyguards are too well trained to stare and their gazes are fixed on the exits, but Paul’s never been one of them. Paul’s always been more to them and he stares at them in concern.

“You two,” he says gruffly as they shuffle towards him as one entity. “You look like shit.”

“Feel like shit,” Harry says with a wan smile. “You can get us to the shop unseen?”

Paul raises an eyebrow. “Have I ever let you down before?”

Harry shakes his head and Liam wants to reach out to thank Paul but she drops her heavy head onto Harry’s shoulder instead and lets out a tiny whimper of pain that has Harry curling around her protectively.

“Shit,” Paul swears eloquently from what seems like a huge distance, even though Liam knows he’s right next to her. “Alright, let’s get you in the car. Louis swears you guys can fix whatever’s wrong with you.”

“We can,” Louis says, appearing at Paul’s shoulder. There’s a pinched look to his grin but he looks calmer than he did before, to Liam’s relief. “They’ll be right as rain, won’t you guys?”

“Let’s get to the car,” is all Harry says before he gently steers Liam through the lobby with Paul walking in front of them and shielding them from any prying eyes that might have escaped his security sweep.

With minimum fuss, they’re in the car and no one mentions the fact that Liam managed to stay in her seat for less than two minutes before she’d edged herself into Harry’s lap, both of them sighing when she’d rested her head against his chest and they’d enfolded themselves around each other.

They drive in complete silence until the car pulls to a stop and they all tumble out of the car. Their formation is all over the place since usually Liam’s one of the first out and Harry usually brings up the rear, but luckily Paul has been true to his word and cleared the area well enough for them to duck into the shop that Harry points them towards unseen. Louis leads the way, with Liam and Harry behind, and Niall and Zayn trailing them.

The shop smells of incense and Liam wrinkles her nose while Harry breathes in deeply and relaxes against her. She can see why Harry would have been drawn into the store, with old books on display and trinkets scattered across the display cases. Liam has no idea what most of them are or what they’re meant to do, but Harry looks delighted by the atmosphere inside the shop and she presses in close, almost purring when Harry’s hand brushes down her arm and squeezes her tight.

“She’s here,” Harry says, sounding relieved. He’s gesturing to the girl behind the counter, who’s currently frozen in place. There’s a guilty look in her eyes and she darts around the desk towards Harry.

“I’m so sorry,” she blurts out, and she’s wringing her hands nervously. “I shouldn’t have done it. I know I shouldn’t have done it. And now you’re all here and please don’t kill me! I’m so so sorry!”

“Well, no one’s killing anyone here,” Niall says as she pushes her way past Louis to stand in front of the pale, scared-looking girl and she offers her an easy, comforting smile that has the girl’s hunched shoulders relaxing just a little. “What’s your name?”

“Esther,” the girl says, her voice softer now and she’s looking at Niall with actual stars in her eyes. Liam would bet her life on Esther being a Niall girl.

“Alright, Esther, why don’t you tell us what happened, yeah?” Niall says cheerfully. “Then I’m sure we can fix this whole thing and everything can stop being weird and we can go back to normality. Sound like a plan?”

“Hell fucking yes,” Louis mutters. Zayn elbows him and presses his finger to his lips.

“Well Harry came in and I was all like OH MY GOD THAT’S HARRY STYLES except I was trying to play it cool,” Esther says, grabbing her phone and scrolling through it. “I was really nervous and he was looking at the rings and he pulled one out and was trying it on and then he was walking over to me and I wanted to die because he’s Harry, you know?”

Liam gives her an empathetic smile.

“So he was about to buy the ring and I asked for a picture and he said it was okay. He even smiled,” Esther says, sounding miserable.

“I told you!” Harry says to Niall with a smug grin.

Then Esther shoves her phone between them with an unhappy scowl. “Look!”

Liam peers over Niall’s shoulder to look at the picture on the screen. Harry’s definitely smiling, and it honestly doesn’t look any different to the million other pictures Harry’s taken with fans.

“It’s actually a pretty good picture for once,” Louis says from over Niall’s other shoulder. “Nice one, Harold.”

“Thanks,” Harry says with a slight preen, so Liam elbows him in the belly which quickly wipes the smile of his face. “Oh. Right. Yeah, so what did I do then?”

“You’re leaning away from me!” Esther wails. “And I was so mad that I cursed that stupid ring to teach you a lesson because all I wanted was a picture with you and you ruined it. And my mum shouted at me for like, hours and hours and she was gonna try and track you down but I said that you’d have security and stuff and we’d never get anywhere near you and I’ve been grounded all week except for working here and I’m just really sorry, okay?”

Harry’s face is an absolute picture and Liam really wishes she had a camera to capture it. She’s trying desperately not to laugh despite how serious the situation is and she can see Niall’s lips twitching too. But laughter isn’t going to help the situation. Not with an actual, honest to god witch on their hands.

So they’re all grateful when Zayn steps forward and gently explains to the poor girl about Harry’s back injury and his tendency to lean.

“I’m doing yoga to help sort it,” Harry inserts helpfully.

Zayn just sighs long-sufferingly and turns back to Esther. “So he really wasn’t doing it on purpose, and he didn’t mean to seem rude.”

Niall’s showing Esther her camera roll on her phone, explaining that Harry’s leaning in most of them while Liam’s trying not to look miserable about how little time she has left before Esther reverses the spell and Harry stops looking at her the way he’s been looking at her recently. Or how she’ll have to sleep alone again and watch Harry walk away with Niall or Louis, leaving her behind.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” Esther repeats, interrupting Liam’s thoughts. She’s wringing her hands and staring at Harry anxiously. “I’d just learnt this new proximity spell and I kind of lost my temper a little. I mean my mum’s always telling me I have to work on my temper otherwise I’ll end up in trouble like my Auntie Julie, and she shouted at me for like, _days_ and I just wanted to teach you a little lesson?”

Liam has to turn away because her emotions are frayed already and she’s barely holding onto her self-control and screaming at this girl for being so reckless and careless. Harry’s arm wraps around her waist and he softly nuzzles his cheek against hers. Liam’s powerless to resist. Aware that this could be the last time, she grabs his hand to lace their fingers together.

“Could you just remove it please?” Harry asks quietly.

“Yeah, before we have to start spraying them with cold water?” Louis adds dryly.

Liam barely manages a laugh because she feels so miserable and awful. Her fingers tighten around Harry’s and she turns to bury her face into his shoulder. They stand locked together while the girl mutters something under her breath. Harry’s fingers dig hard enough to bite into her hip where he’s holding her but Liam doesn’t utter a single protest.

“Alright, it should be lifted,” the girl says, sounding as wretched as Liam feels. “I’m really, really sorry.”

Liam can hear Paul stepping forward and there’s a hushed discussion between him, Louis and the girl about non-disclosure forms to sign. But she doesn’t step away from Harry and he doesn’t move either. Instinctively though she knows the spell or curse or whatever it was has been lifted because the pull between them is gone.

Except that’s not quite right, Liam thinks unhappily. There’s no urgency to pull Harry close and breathe him in, but she doesn’t want to step away either. She’s gotten used to Harry being a solid warmth by her side and she selfishly doesn’t want to give that up. The longer she stays here not letting go of him, the longer she puts off the sight of Harry walking away from her without a second glance. She’s not ready for that though. She doesn’t know if she’s strong enough to stand alone after almost a week of leaning on Harry and letting him past her barriers without even realising they’d been lowered.

“Guys?” Zayn’s voice is pitched low and soft, but there’s a hint of steel underneath. “Did it work?”

Liam catches her bottom lip between her teeth and finally lifts her head. Harry’s looking down at her, waiting. She nods reluctantly, taking a tiny step back as Harry’s hands fall slowly to his sides.

It’s all wrong, she thinks desperately, but she resists the pull to step forward and grab Harry’s hands simply because she knows he’d let her right now. He’d allow her to take advantage of him if it meant making this easier for her. And she can’t do that to him when there’s already a list a mile long of people who’ve screwed him over for being too nice. Too open. Too trusting. Too caring.

So she takes another step back, and her hand reaches blindly for Niall’s. She sighs in relief when Niall pulls her into a hug, and she squeezes her eyes shut while the boys move around them.

“He’s gone back to the car,” Niall says finally, softly, and Liam opens her eyes. Niall’s stroking Liam’s hair back from her face and Liam’s grateful when she doesn’t mention the tear that’s sliding slowly down her cheek. Liam scrubs her hand over her cheek until Niall pulls it gently away. “C’mon, Liam. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

She lets Niall guide her back to the silent car, slipping in first so Liam can take the window seat. Paul keeps looking over his shoulder at her and Harry, but Liam keeps her unseeing gaze locked on the window. Being separated from Harry feels odd, but it’s not painful like it had been under the spell and when the car stops, Liam jumps out first and heads straight for her bedroom. She changes quickly into her gym clothes and heads back down for a workout, not giving herself any time to think.

Mark doesn’t shout at her once during the workout and it makes Liam feels like crying so she ups the speed on the treadmill and drowns everything out as she pushes herself harder. She runs until her legs feel like lead and her heart races dangerously fast. Mark leans over and changes the speed down to a brisk walk, expressing his disapproval without words.

“Sorry,” Liam mumbles as she tries to regulate her breathing long enough to slow her heart rate down.

“Stop pushing yourself so hard,” Mark says when she finally steps off the treadmill. He catches her arm lightly, forcing her to look up into his worried eyes. “You’re not superwoman, Liam.”

Liam offers him a tired smile. “Not trying to be,” she murmurs.

Mark lets her go with another concerned look that makes her feel even worse.

She trudges into her hotel room and tries not to think about whether Harry’s in his room next door or not. She doesn’t think about him at all when she steps into the shower and scrubs herself clean. She doesn’t think about him when she calls housekeeping and sheepishly asks them to change her bedding, apologising for the inconvenience. She doesn’t miss him at all. And she definitely doesn’t think about Harry while she’s lying on her freshly laundered, Harry-free sheets, waiting until she gets a call from Paul to come down to the lobby.

But she’s grateful when Zayn and Louis bundle into the first car with her, leaving Niall and Harry, whenever he appears, to catch the second car. And she lets Zayn pull her in for a hug while Louis keeps up a running commentary about what else might exist if witches and magic are real. He’s halfway through discussing the likelihood of Wolverine being a real person when Liam giggles into Zayn’s shoulder.

The noise surprises her as much as it surprises the boys. But Louis only pauses for a second before he launches into the possibility of mind control and how cool it would be to have that superpower.

“You’d be lethal, mate,” Zayn interjects. They start shoving at each other and Liam settles back against the cool leather seat and exhales slowly, surrounded by their familiar laughing and teasing.

But as soon as they’re out of the car and being ushered inside, Liam feels her chest tightening painfully. Normally she spends the pre-show time distracting herself with one of the guys or Niall, or she’ll let Lou talk her into doing something a bit wilder with her hair, or she’ll sneak off with Lux and they’ll play a game together. But tonight she sits in the corner, keeping to herself and counting down the minutes until Paul wrangles them all together to go onstage.

She hasn’t seen Harry, and she suspects Niall dragged him away on purpose to give them some space from each other so the first time she sees him since the curse ended is just seconds before they’re about to run onstage. He falls into step next to her, and they’re both careful to keep a small distance between them.

Liam _hates_ it.

She throws herself into every song and she dances across the stage as if she doesn’t have a care in the world, too manic and a little too wild. Her strained smile is so bright that it hurts her face, and her eyes feel like they’re burning by the time they’re taking a bow together, and she’s pressed between Zayn and Niall, instead of next to Harry where she usually is. And maybe she’s looked over at Harry a few too many times tonight, her heart pounding wildly in her chest every time she’s caught him looking back, but they’ve made it through the show without messing up and she’s so grateful that when she races offstage, she doesn’t realise that Niall’s herding her into the separate girls dressing room that they haven’t used since the X Factor tour, despite Paul always making sure they have one, for appearances sake if nothing else.

When the door closes behind them, Niall reaches for Liam’s hand and holds it gently. “Liam, you should just talk to him.”

Liam makes an odd noise and shakes her head.

“C’mon Liam, its Harry!”

“Yeah, exactly,” Liam says and her shoulders drop in defeat. “He’s Harry. I can’t talk to him, Niall. Not yet. I just- I can’t.”

“Well, he’s gonna be a fucking nightmare until you put him out of his misery,” Niall grumbles like she’s already experienced enough but she links her arm through Liam’s before she pushes the door open and they head for the cars. “I can’t fucking stand Harry when he’s miserable.”

“He’s not that bad,” Liam mumbles before she jumps out of the way of Niall’s hands, which go flying up as she turns to Liam with an incredulous look. “Alright. I’ll talk to him, okay? Just - you know, when I’m ready.”

It’s a short journey back to the hotel and just before they climb out, Niall catches Liam’s wrist and holds her back. “He really will understand, Liam. You should talk sooner rather than later, before Harry’s twisted this into something it’s not.”

“It’s already twisted,” Liam says miserably before Niall shoves her out of the car.

“That’s hardly the attitude, Liam,” she says brightly, ushering Liam into the waiting elevator. She presses the button for their floor before stepping out of the lift quickly, grinning as the doors close and leave Liam alone in the enclosed space. Rolling her eyes, Liam taps her foot impatiently against the shiny floor while the elevator zooms upwards.

When she’s in the sanctuary of her room, Liam moves over to the desk where all her things are cluttered together. It’s a mix of make-up and hairbands and snapbacks and jewellery that she only ever wears onstage and for awards shows.

She holds her hand up and just stares at Harry’s ring where it still sits heavy on her finger. She’s been playing with it all night on stage, twisting it and tapping it against her microphone. With slow, fumbling fingers, she pulls the ring off carefully and places it on the desk where it looks a little duller already.

Liam forces herself to run through her usual post-show routine. She scrubs off her stage makeup and pokes at the looming bags under her eyes with a vaguely concerned frown. Then she strips and steps into the shower, turning it up as hot as she can handle until her skin feels like it’s burning under the punishing spray. She scrubs herself clean and rinses the product from her hair until it feels squeaky clean. Stepping out of the shower, she wraps herself in a soft white towel and rubs another towel over her hair until it’s half-dried. And when she steps back into her room, she’s about to pick up her pyjamas but her gaze falls on one of Harry’s red plaid shirts that he’s left on the floor. Knowing that it’s a bad, terrible idea, Liam picks it up and brings the material to her face where she can breathe in Harry’s scent. It’s easy to drop her towel, step into a pair of panties and slip the cotton shirt over her head until it falls down mid-thigh, caressing her skin where it clings to her curves. It’s even easier to climb into bed and bring her knees up to her chest so she can hug them to her body, tucking her head down to breathe in slow and deep.

It’s not so easy to fall asleep.

After tossing and turning for two hours, staring at her alarm clock as the red digits slowly flash when the minutes slowly pass, she throws the covers off and rolls onto her back. She’s too hot and it’s too quiet to fall asleep without the sound of Harry breathing next to her. She misses the way he’d wrap himself around her, not giving a damn about personal space. She misses how easily Harry found a place for himself next to her and how empty it feels without him.

Liam stumbles to her feet and brushes her hair back from her face. It’s seven steps to the door that connects their rooms, but she only takes two before she turns and changes direction towards the desk. The ring is still sitting there, patiently waiting. When Liam slides it back onto her finger, she breathes a little easier as she turns back towards the connecting door. Except when she finally feels the cool metal handle in her hand, a surge panic rises inside her until her heart is pounding and she can hardly breathe. What if Harry pushes her away? What if he’s busy? What if he’s not there, or even worse, he’s not alone in his bed?

Paralysed with anxiety, she almost falls when the door gives away and she stumbles forward, right into Harry, who wraps his arms around her and drags her closer. She sobs as she presses her cheek against his chest and digs her fingers into his skin, almost clawing to get closer.

“Thank god,” Harry’s muttering into her hair and running his hands over her back comfortingly.

When Liam pulls back, Harry’s hand reaches up to cup her cheek and he leans in, his eyes bright as he rubs his nose against hers gently. Liam giggles and lifts her arms to wrap them around his neck.

“Liam,” Harry breathes, sending a shiver down her spine. But when he leans closer, his intent clear, Liam jerks back, her arms falling away while Harry blinks slowly in surprise.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice a little high and reed-thin.

“I thought-.” Harry runs his hands through his hair, looking adorably confused. “Fuck. You’re wearing my shirt and I just thought-. Liam, I’m sorry.”

“No,” Liam says, embarrassed. Harry moves to take a step back but she lifts her arms again and pulls him close. “No, not no! I mean, I was just coming over because I missed you and I couldn’t sleep so I was going to sneak into your bed except then I panicked that maybe you wouldn’t be alone and I froze.”

“The others wouldn’t have minded,” Harry says slowly. He’s watching her with a thoughtful expression. “They’d have understood, I think.”

Liam looks away, feeling even more embarrassed and waits until she hears Harry exhaling slowly. “You didn’t mean the guys though. You thought the first thing I’d do was go find a girl?”

“No,” Liam denies quickly. Too quickly. “Maybe?”

“Liam,” Harry starts but Liam rushes on and puts her hand over Harry’s mouth to stop him.

“Don’t,” she says quietly. Harry’s eyes soften over her hand causing Liam to let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really think you would just go out and find someone, but I panicked. And it was literally the worst thing that I could imagine happening if I opened this door. I was hyperventilating, Harry.”

Harry encircles her wrist with his hand and rubs his thumb softly over her skin.

“And you thought I was coming over for sex and you were going to kiss me,” Liam murmurs. Her mind is racing but she keeps coming back to the same sobering thought. “But how do we know how much of this, whatever it is, is just the curse?”

Harry drags her hand back slightly and presses a kiss in the middle of her palm, his eyes skating over his ring where it sits on her finger. “Because I really want to kiss you and we’re not cursed now?”

“But we’ve spent the past few days cursed to live in each other’s pockets,” Liam says as reasonably as she can when she’s trembling and her legs feel like jelly. She cups Harry’s cheek and smiles sadly up at him. “This isn’t real, Harry.”

“No?” Harry questions softly. He turns his face into her hand and closes his eyes, breathing in slowly. “I’ve fancied you like mad for four years, Liam. I don’t think it’s going away anytime soon.”

Liam’s entire body freezes and she stares at Harry, scouring his face for some evidence of a lie. “What?” she asks blankly. “What are you talking about, Harry?”

Harry opens his eyes and pulls her closer, holding her up while she falls against him. “You were dating Danielle though. And then Sophia. And I thought, you know, if she wanted me, she’d have said something. God, I’ve been stupid over you since we met, Liam. So totally head-over-heels stupid.”

Liam smacks his arm. Hard.

“Ow!” Harry rubs his arm and looks at her, wounded. “What was that for?”

“You’re so stupid,” she mutters as she pushes Harry through the door and keeps going until his back is flat against the wall. Then she steps into his space until she’s pressing against him between his legs and his hands are on her waist, holding her firmly in place. Very firmly. “I’ve fancied you forever, you idiot. But you kept dating all those beautiful models and I can’t compete with them. Models, Harry! Are you kidding me?”

Harry groans and drops his head onto her shoulder. “Liam,” he says, sounding frustrated and making Liam bristle a little. “Are you being serious? Do you honestly think any of them could compete with _you_?”

Liam’s mouth opens but nothing comes out and she just gapes at him.

“You have no idea,” Harry murmurs, cupping her face and tipping her head back so he can see her dazed face. “No idea how much I want you. No idea how sexy you look in just my shirt. God Liam, you’re like every dream I’ve ever had.”

“You want me,” Liam echoes numbly. God, she’s still trying to wrap her head around what Harry’s apparently telling her.

“I thought you’d want some space after the past few days,” Harry says. He traces her lips with his finger, a smile playing on his own. “I thought you’d push me away and I didn’t know how the hell I was going to let you.”

“I don’t want space,” Liam mumbles as she clings to him, not caring how needy she sounds. “No space. None. Space is bad.”

“I hate space,” Harry agrees wholeheartedly. “It’s the worst.”

Liam huffs out a laugh as Harry buries his face into Liam’s neck. “Okay but Harry, what are we doing?” she asks. “What are we saying here?”

Harry lifts his face and he looks so mischievous that Liam can’t stop herself from curling her fingers into Harry’s bare arms and beaming back at him. She makes a surprised noise as Harry suddenly grabs her hips and picks her up clear off the ground. She instinctively wraps her legs around his waist and lets out a tiny shriek as Harry’s hands slide along her bare thighs. Then she giggles as his fingers slip back further and he groans as he finds her panties.

“You’re killing me,” Harry mutters as he carries her over to his bed. Frankly, Liam’s surprised they make it in one piece and she’s kind of turned on by the unexpected competence and gracefulness.

He tumbles her down onto the mattress and she sinks back against the bed, her eyes crinkling as she stares up at him. Now that she’s free to look, she lets her gaze travel slowly over his body, her breathing quickening at how toned and strong he looks now compared to when they first met and Liam had been half an inch taller than him. Now he towers above her, covered in tattoos that tell his story.

“Come here,” Liam murmurs softly, holding her arms open for him.

Harry crawls over her, careful not to squash her with his weight but that’s not what Liam wants right now so she tugs and pulls until Harry collapses on top of her, heavy and so, so real.

“Stay?” she asks quietly when he tries to roll off of her. “Please.”

“M’not going anywhere,” he mumbles. And he doesn’t, even when Liam pushes his hair back so she can see his face.

“So I uh, think maybe we should take this slow,” she says haltingly in a quiet voice. When Harry looks down at her, Liam leans up and kisses his cheek. “I wanna do this right, Harry. I want to make sure this is real. I don’t want to rush in and fuck it up. Not with you.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks, sounding unbearably pleased.

“It matters, this time,” Liam tells him with absolute sincerity. “And not just because of the band.”

Harry’s eyes soften and he rolls over this time, but he takes Liam with him until she’s sprawled over him and her hair is falling down like a curtain surrounding them. “Hey. It matters to me too, Liam. You matter to me.”

Liam beams down at him and when he pulls her down slowly, she goes easily until her eyes close and she feels the first brush of his lips against hers. Sighing, she chases his mouth while he laughs softly against her lips. Then he kisses her again until she’s gasping into his mouth and her fingers are tangled in his hair and she’s silently begging him for more.

“God, you’re going to destroy me, Liam,” Harry says, breathing heavily when he finally pulls back. His pupils are blown wide, his hair is a complete mess and Liam can feel his dick pressing against her thigh. He looks wrecked already with just a few kisses and Liam can’t help but grin just a little smugly as she takes in the very visible evidence of how much he wants her and her heart finally settles into an even rhythm.

“Maybe I just want to bewitch you,” Liam whispers, her eyes shining as she trails her trembling finger down Harry’s cheek as he grins in appreciation of her terrible pun.

“You already have,” Harry tells her solemnly, catching her hand in his and stroking his thumb over the heavy gold band before he pulls her down for another kiss to muffle her helpless giggles.


End file.
